Constable Baker smiled as the six people were marched onto the low stage and lined up under extremely bright lights. She was on the other side of a thick window, sitting in darkness with a pair of Yuudixtl men who were practically vibrating with excitement, in spite of the handcuffs around their wrists.
This was all just a formality anyway. Six Elohynn were lined up. Two of them slouched in the uniform of the Constabulary. One of those and another were female. Another was a well-known, local sports reporter with a sense of humor. One was a random stranger off the street, willing to take an hour off and get lunch in the deal.
And one fat, old man Elohynn that had been utterly bullet-proof until yesterday.
She smiled some more, letting it spread so far across her face that she was afraid she might start to glow.
“Number four,” the neared Yuudixtl crowed.
She had only met Morty in the flesh a few hours ago, but she had been reading reports and hearing stories from both Dankworth and Liamssen about the lizardman for nearly two months now. He was just as silly, as sarcastic, and as sharp as they had warned her.
Eveth picked up a microphone and spoke into it.
“Number four, step forward,” she commanded.
It helped that he was the only one wearing cuffs in there, but this was just a formality.
Omerlon took an angry step forward. He looked like he wanted to punch the glass, had his hands been in front. Perhaps he might head-butt it yet.
“That’s him,” the other one said.
Xiomber. Supposedly egg-brother to Morty. Partners in crime and mischief. And willing to spend the last three hours, on tape, detailing every crime they could remember, with names, dates, places, and amounts. And not just Sarzynski’s gang, as these two had spent twenty years being bad guys for a number of outfits.
It would take her weeks, and maybe months to suck these two dry. And they seemed even more excited at the prospect than she did.
Bizarre.
“Morty?” she asked.
“Correct,” Morty said. “Number four.”
“The rest of you may go,” she said into the mic. “Thank you for your service.”
“You bastards got nothing on me,” Omerlon snarled.
“On the contrary, Omerlon,” Baker said with an infectious smile that the other two seemed to have picked up. “I have you on four counts of attempted murder, including attempted murder of a Constabulary Officer.”
Three of the folks in the line-up had departed. The two Elohynn officers were pushing Omerlon the other direction, towards the holding cells.
“May I?” Morty hopped off his stool and approached with a hand out.
Baker shrugged and handed him the microphone.
“Hey, Omerlon,” Morty cat-called the Elohynn crime boss. “You were right. See you in hell.”
He handed her back the mic and moved towards the two officers at the back of the room, almost skipping with glee.
She had no idea what was going on, but this was going to be fun.
Because Omerlon? Yeah, he was about to enter hell.