The sun was down as Desmond Doyle walked through the empty street. The crooked streetlight blinking in the dusk brought his attention to the leafless trees around him. The only sounds were the cold wind on his exposed face and the footsteps of Merin Kelly walking by. That slight skid of his left shoe was enough to tell him it’s Kelly without looking up. Des kept looking at his leather boots, the greyness of the bricks, and a few leaves stuck stubbornly in the crevices. But mainly, he didn’t want to talk to Kelly. His eyes, however, were set on Des. The musky smell he always carried drifted ahead of him. He was wearing that khaki battered jacket with that one hole on his right sleeve. His hair hung long and uncombed. Kelly was the type of guy who just exists; you don’t know where he came from, and you don’t know why he repairs bikes in that rusty shop, but he just does. The tall old guy had a mouth. He could talk away all the seagulls if he had a chance. Whenever he was standing at his shop with that odd dimple in his chin, every time his lopsided smile appeared, Des would always look away.
“Mate!” Kelly’s throaty voice yelled out.
Des intentionally walked faster, eyes never leaving the ground. Then, a loud horn filled the empty air behind him, followed by a thud. Des froze for a moment, contemplating when to turn around, until he heard a hiss and a car door open. As soon as his head moved, a young guy shoved him and ran away in the opposite direction. Des didn’t catch a look at his face; his eyes just followed the scene behind him, landing on the car left abandoned with the door still open and then Kelly on the concrete road, blood slowly oozing from a wound on his head. The car was oddly dirty.
Desmond stood near the wall as sirens painted his face red and blue in the dark.
“Name?” the short-heighted officer asked him with a clipboard in hand. The uniformed officer was Gale. An easy-going fella, always handling the cases around the neighbourhood. His round eyes didn’t blink once.
“My name?"
"Yes, sir."
"You don’t know my name?"
"Ah. Murphy, is it?"
"No."
"Then I don’t know your name."
"I know your name."
"Ah. good on you."
"Ok."
"Well, my bad, what’s your name?"
"Desmond"
"Last name?"
"Doyle”
“So, Desmond, you’re the one who rang us, correct?”
Desmond’s eyes were fixed on Gale’s collar, which was uneven on one side. He nodded to Gale. Meanwhile, the medics carefully moved Kelly on the stretcher behind them. The blood seeped onto the white lines of the crosswalk. Gale side-eyed his buddy once, then turned to look where Des was looking.
“Is he alive?” Des asked.
“That’s Kelly, isn’t it? He’ll surely talk his way out of this one, that fella.” Gale replied, trying to lighten the mood, then turned to Desmond again.
“Ok, we’ll have to bring you in for some questions."
"Questions?"
"Yes, sir."
"What questions?"
"Ye, we will ask you at the office."
"And the guy?"
"The driver?"
"Yes."
"You said he ran?"
"Yes."
"Well, we’ll look out.”
Desmond sat quietly in the car as they drove to the station. A few raindrops hit the windows. He stared at the trees passing by. There was blood on his long coat’s sleeve from when he had tried to press Kelly’s wound with his old handkerchief. He thought about the dry cleaners in town that closed up shop and left for the city. Harry and his family. He was Desmond’s old friend. Gale looked at Des through the rear-view mirror, then turned to his buddy, murmuring something about letting Kevin know to set up the camera.
The grey interrogation room smelled damp. Desmond sat on the metal chair with a camera stand fixed, pointing straight to his face. Gale hummed a little as he flipped through a few pages. A thin officer put a glass of water down in front of him.
“Desmond?” Kevin said, looking at him
”Yes,” Desmond said without looking back.
”You know him?” Gale asked, his eyes curious.
”Yes, he lives right by Kelly’s,” Kevin replied and gave him a reassuring nod.
”Ah… right.”
Kevin left, closing the door behind him. Gale coughed once, then looked at Desmond.
“Sir, can you start by telling what happened?"
"I told you on the ring."
"Ye, so why were you there?"
"I was walking.”
Gale sighed once, then put a set of keys on the table.
“These belong to the car at the scene. They were in your coat."
"Yes."
"Is the car yours, Desmond?"
"No. I didn’t put the keys there."
"We ran the plate; it’s a fake. No CCTV around that street. Keys in your pocket. Are you sure you didn’t drive?"
"Yes. Why would I ring you?"
"Ah, sometimes out of guilt, fellas report themselves."
"It wasn’t me."
"Ok, can you describe the fella who ran?"
"I didn’t look at him."
"Anything you could have noticed?"
"He looked young.”
Gale sighed heavily. Desmond’s eyes were fixed on the keys on the table. He didn’t look nervous or stressed. A plain expression on his face made him look emotionless.
“Kelly called out to me."
"What?"
"When I walked away, he called out. I didn’t turn."
"Why is that?"
"I don’t know.”
Gale jotted down a few things, then looked at Des.
“Where were you headed, Desmond?"
"Home."
"And why were you out?"
"I bought cigarettes.”
Gale nodded, looking at the pack of cigarettes that was also in his coat pocket, but there was no bill. A single drop of sweat beaded on his eyebrow as he felt confused by the whole incident. He glanced at the clock, turning to 9 pm. Desmond picked up the glass of water, drinking it whole and then put down the empty glass. The only sound in the room was the clock’s ticking, then suddenly the door opened. Kevin put down the hot coffee in front of Gale and side-eyed Desmond. Gale just nodded a no. Kevin leaned in and whispered a few things in Gale’s ear. Kevin’s ginger hair was awfully gelled back. He lived with his brother, who looked identical to him, but they always said they weren’t twins. Then Kevin left.
“So, my colleague told me Kelly is in serious care. Haven’t regained consciousness yet."
"Ok."
"Know Kelly well?"
"No."
"Aren’t you neighbours with the fella?"
"Yes."
"You must be the quiet type."
"No.”
Gale had left Desmond in the room for a while. He looked around, noticing the ceiling and some scratches on the grey wall. Then his eyes settled on the stain that was on the metal table. He rubbed his sleeve once over it, but it stayed. Outside, he heard the raindrops still falling slowly, the kind you don’t even feel, and without notice, they settle on you. Then the door creaked open as Gale entered and sat down.
“Word came from the hospital, fella is fine for now. Had a close one that guy.”
Desmond didn’t reply.
“Kelly spoke your name. Said it was you. Now I want you to be honest, ye?"
"It’s not me."
"So, he’s lying? After taking a knock to the head?"
"Yes.”
Gale sighed and stared down at his clipboard. He jots down the last words.
RTC
one guy down
driver ran
fake plate
no cctv
desmond doyle
never heard of him?
keys in coat pocket
cigarettes
calm
too calm?
neighbours
says not close
kelly says he did it
who’s lying?