Re: Police Station: Iris and a Deputy
The deputy listened. She watched Morgenstern blink sadly at the table or the floor or anywhere that was not at her, and she only stopped once, for a moment, when her colleague floated into the periphery of her vision, hovering at the threshold of the door with two styrofoam cups, one with traces of taupe lipstick along the rim. She stood, took the two drinks, thanked him, and closed the door.—She slid the water across to Morgenstern.
"Your prints aren't on the knife," she said, quite softly, as she lifted the second cup of coffee to her lips. It smelled a little burned, but the saccharine sweetness of sugar kept it from going right into acrid. She blew across the diluted surface and looked at Morgenstern. "Your sister's are. And we know from the splatter on the clothing, she was the one who stabbed him. Do you want to tell me the truth?"