darker_london | Not Just a Scare Tactic (Peter) Rating: PG-13 (Reply)

Peter's second night in jail hadn't been as restful as his first. His Uncle Gabriel had gotten to him and while his faith in his friends had by no means diminished, he had to admit that his faith in the justice system wasn't all that great.

In the morning, he was taken in for questioning again before breakfast. He knew they were doing it on purpose, hoping that in his unfed state he'd somehow let something slip. He had to admit he didn't feel all that flash as he ignored his growling stomach and leaned against the table to wait for someone else to come in and assult him with an endless barrage of questions.

A young woman entered and she took a seat opposite Peter. Peter looked up and he smiled at her as best he could. "Hello, Mr. Kemp. My name is Officer Lisa Evans. I work with the coroner's office. I'm here to ask you a few questions if you don't mind?"

"Peter's fine. And I did guess about the questions thing. I also guessed that it wouldn't really matter if I did mind, since it's going to happen anyway."

Lisa Evans just gave Peter an 'uh huh' look and continued shuffling her files around. "This won't take long, and then you can get back to your breakfast. We're doing some tests on the body of a Mr. Edward Whittinger. Mr. Whittinger's body is covered in fingerprints, yet none of them are yours."

Peter smiled and he let himself feel some sort of relief. "That's because I never touched Mr. Whittinger, may he rest in peace. Nor did I kill him, if that's your next question."

"Mr. Kemp, while it's becoming quite obvious that you didn't touch the man, at least not without gloves on...we have pictures where his blood is covering your shirt. Would you like to explain to me how that is possible since you state that you did not in fact touch the man?" Peter's mouth remained closed. "Mr. Kemp, we understand that if you had found the body you may have panicked and rushed over to try and help. It would be possible to get blood on yourself that way. For that to be true, however, there would be fingerprints. Fibers. Something. There's not. There's nothing."

Peter continued to stare at her. They were supposed to let him go if there was nothing! They'd said that yesterday! The very tests that were supposed to set him free were damning him. "I'm sorry...were you meant to be asking me questions?" Peter said, immediatley going on the defensive.

"Of course." She took a deep breath. "Mr. Kemp. What no one can figure out is why you were out in the middle of the night on a street notorious for it's streetwalkers and petty thieves. Your record in London is clean up to now. Not even a traffic violation. And you were a priest. What were you doing? Were you out saving souls?"

Something like that, yeah. "I explained before that I was walking. I was clearing my head. I didn't know what street I was on to tell you the truth, I was just wandering."

"And you found a body. Which you didn't touch but you somehow got covered in his blood." She sighed. "Your story has more holes than the Titanic. And we know that happened there. Mr. Kemp, I have to be honest with you. No one here believes you did this. Since you've arrived you've been nothing if not pleasent and cooperative. People booked under suspicion of murder are rarely so. What I do think is that someone called you down there...perhaps a member of an old parish...because they'd killed someone. They were covered in Mr. Whittinger's blood. The fingerprints are enough to show that would be true. That person touched you and then took off, leaving you there when the police arrived. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time." She paused and looked at Peter for a reaction, but Peter's face remained stoic.

"Mr. Kemp...I know that as a priest, you take certain vows. I know that if someone goes into a confessional and confesses to a murder, you're not allowed to inform the police. It's against your orders. I'm a Catholic too. I respect that up to a point. Your job is to guide them. Tell them to turn themselves in." Lisa threw a file in front of Peter. "And I know you've done this once already. You said yesterday that you lived in Austria for 3 years. Look what the Melk polizei sent us yesterday."

Peter pulled the file towards him, though he knew what it was. He opened it up and gazed at the mug shots from two years ago. He looked back up at Lisa Evans and raised his eyebrows. "Alright. What are you getting at?"

"You were arrested in Melk and spent 12 days in jail because you refused to help an investigation into armed robbery against one of your parishoners. The police knew he might have confessed to you and you refused to tell them anything. You did jail time instead of breaking your vows. You're an extraordinary man, Mr. Kemp."

"Are you questioning me or complimenting me?" Peter asked, getting quite tetchy. The man he'd gone to jail for had indeed confessed to the armed robbery and Peter hadn't said a damn word. The man had finally turned himself in and Peter had been allowed to return to his parish....to parishoners that loved him even more after that. It still hadn't been a pleasent experience.

Lisa Evans sighed. "Alright, Mr. Kemp. I'll get down to it. You're protecting someone. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. They knew it when they brought you in. The purpose was to scare you in to giving them up. They didn't know about this." She pulled the file from Melk away from Peter. "They thought you'd give up a name the first night. They had every right to arrest you, you were at the scene of the crime covered in blood. Mr. Kemp...they now have every right to keep you here because you won't give them a name. It's obstruction of justice. You're not a priest anymore and this wasn't said in a confessional. It's your responsibility to give that name. If you don't, it could go to trial and you could face years in prison. It's not a scare tactic anymore, Mr. Kemp. This is real. I'll leave you to it." She rose slowly from the table and gave him one last look before heading out the door.

Peter let his head fall against the table with a loud thud.