A Malignancy

The last time I’d seen him, he was in uniform. A towering beacon of righteousness and above all, a gentleman.
Today, I saw him behind bars.
‘It's been a long time,’ he said to me.
‘You and I were on the same side of these bars, back then,’ I said.
I pulled the prison guard’s chair and took a seat outside his cell. I took off my cap and looked at him, shivering in the cold.
‘The cells used to be warmer,’ he said.
‘They don’t seem cold to me,’ I said, ‘Perhaps it isn’t the cells, perhaps it’s-….why did you do it?’
‘Because I was dying to be on the other side of the bars, wasn’t I?’ he snapped.
‘You were basking in the aftermath of what you did,’ I retorted, ‘You were holding the knife that stabbed the poor Constable, you-….’
‘You think it was fortunate that you arrived at the right moment,’ he said, ‘but if you were able to be there so quickly after the crime, the question must be asked, Inspector, why didn’t you stop the crime?’
‘Don’t you dare twist your words,’ I said, standing up and lunging at the bars, ‘This isn’t my crime.’
‘It is a crime that you stumbled upon while strolling in the great outdoors and it is a crime where I happened to be present at the scene,’ he said.
‘Are you saying that you are innocent of the Constable's murder?’ I asked.
‘Inspector,’ came a sharp voice, breaking my reverie.
I turned to see the chief inspector and the superintendent walk into the prison corridor, followed by a Sergeant and a guard.
‘Sir,’ I said, saluting the two of them.
‘Get on with it,’ the superintendent said, motioning the sergeant to come forward.
Cold metal girded my wrists, sending a sharp pain through my head.
‘What is going on?’ I asked.
‘You are to be arrested, Inspector,’ spat the chief inspector, ‘for involvement and assistance in a constable's murder.’
The prisoner scoffed. From the corner of my eye, I saw his face contort in smug shock.
‘I'm not a murderer,’ I said, as the sergeant shoved me again.
‘Your fingerprints were found upon the knife that stabbed the constable,’ said the superintendent, ‘along with those of our former inspector who stands behind bars.’
The prisoner took in a breath, his eyes boring into my being.
‘I was the one who caught him doing it,’ I said, ‘ask him, sir, let him give his account.’
‘Inspector, I won’t be taking one criminal’s word against another,’ said the chief inspector.
Just as the sergeant shoved me into the corridor, the superintendent’s walkie-talkie creaked.
‘What news from the morgue, detective?’ asked the superintendent
The colour drained from the man’s face.
‘What?’ he snapped, ‘What do you mean the body’s gone?’
‘Disappeared, sir,’ came the voice on the walkie-talkie, ‘We only left it alone for twenty minutes.

Epilogue

That day was historic. Two cops, both in prison for an elusive crime.
However, a prison looked just the same from the outside, no matter who it captured.
Walking away from the building was the quietest victory, for no matter your sins, you were free to walk away.