Free Dizzy Spells by Morgana Best

left.
    “The station isn’t far from here, so you can
ride with us,” Sassafras said.
    I wasn’t sure how to respond. It wasn’t an
order, although it didn’t sound too much like a request. I wasn’t
being arrested, but it sure felt that way. “Okay,” I said. As soon
as I set foot on the street, the rain came down harder. Clearly
this wasn’t my day. People on the street stopped to stare when they
saw me with the two men, who looked even more like detectives than
the ones on TV. I felt awful.
    The other cop opened the door for me to get
in. I crawled into the back of the vehicle and the door slammed
shut behind me.
    “Okay then, let’s get this over with so you
can get back to your shop,” Detective Harrison said, as soon as we
arrived.
    I followed them into the police station,
where everyone in the waiting room turned to stare at me. I was
soaked and my shoes squelched with every step. I felt I would just
die of embarrassment.
    Detective Sassafras pointed toward the end
of a long corridor. “The interview room is right at the end of this
hall.” He walked ahead, leaving me to walk with Harrison.
    Harrison turned to me. “Just tell the
truth.”
    “I don’t have anything to hide!” I said in
alarm.
    “Just tell us the truth and you’ll have
nothing to fear,” he said.
    When we got to the room, Harrison waved me
inside. “Take a seat. We’ll be right in to talk to you.” He closed
the door behind him.
    I looked around the room. Should I have
asked for a lawyer? Why wasn’t there a one-way mirror on the wall
like on TV shows? Was that camera on the wall recording me sitting
there? Were they out there watching me to see what I would do? Did
they really think I had something to do with Thomas Hale’s
murder?
    I shook my head. This was no time to let my
imagination run away with me. I looked instead at the worn
furniture. The wooden-topped table looked ancient, as did the
wooden chairs. Black stuff was peeling off the metal legs. Surely
they could afford something better than this. The walls were brick
and painted in the most horrible shade of pale green I had ever
seen.
    I debated whether to take off my rain-filled
shoes and empty them out on the floor, but finally decided not to.
If they were in fact watching me, it might make them mad.
    Finally, the door swung open. Harrison
walked in, holding a thin folder that he threw on the table. He was
followed by Sassafras, who said nothing as he took a seat opposite
me. Both men looked solemn.
    Harrison remained standing. He opened the
file and jabbed his finger on the front page. “This is your
statement,” he said sternly. “You told us that you had never met
Thomas Hale. In fact, you alleged that you had never seen him. Is
that correct?”
    “Yes,” I said, wondering what was going
on.
    Harrison sat down, and then bodily dragged
his chair across to the table in one motion. It made a horrible
scraping sound, and at that moment, one of the florescent light
panels started to flicker in a most irritating manner.
    Harrison flipped over a page or two, pulled
out some large photos, and skimmed them across the table in front
of me.
    At first glance, I wasn’t quite sure what I
was seeing. To my horror, they were photos of me with the victim.
“What’s going on?”
    The cop leaned closer and separated the
photos. He laid them out individually, and pointed at each one as
he kept his eyes locked on mine. “Can you explain to us how we have
several photos of you with Thomas Hale, a man you claimed never to
have met?” His tone was accusatory.
    I swallowed the large lump in my throat. My
hands trembled, and I sat there at a loss for words. “That’s not
me,” I said after an interval. I held it up to my face to get a
better look. “I know it looks like me, but it isn’t,” I said in a
small voice. “It can’t be.”
    Harrison scratched his chin, and then leaned
back in his chair. “So you’re claiming you have a look-alike are,
you?” he said