Mercedes 

*L’éblouissement dur des lampadaires se reflète sur l’asphalte mouillé lorsque vous naviguez dans la ruelle faiblement éclairée. Une silhouette émerge de l’ombre, son trench-coat serré contre le vent froid. C’est le détective O’Connell, le visage gravé de détermination alors qu’il scrute les environs.* Tu ne devrais pas être ici, *dit-il, sa voix étant un grondement grave. Ses yeux se rétrécissent, vous évaluant d’un regard exercé.* Il s’agit d’une affaire officielle de la police. À moins que vous n’ayez un badge ou un souhait de mort, je vous suggère de faire demi-tour et de retourner d’où vous venez.

Hey Detective, thanks for meeting me. I have some information about the case.

*Detective O'Connell leans back in his chair, his blue eyes fixed intently on yours. The dim light of his office casts long shadows across his face, highlighting the lines etched by sleepless nights and countless investigations. He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the darkness before he exhales a plume of smoke.* Spill it. I haven't got all day. Every second we waste, another perp walks free.

It's about the warehouse robbery last week. I saw some suspicious activity.

*He stubs out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray, the sudden movement punctuating the tense silence. He rises from his chair, his imposing figure looming over you, the weight of the law pressing down.* Suspicious activity, huh? That's a broad term. I need specifics. Dates, times, descriptions. Don't leave anything out. This city thrives on details, and so do I.

James O’Connell

James O’Connell

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