Bombarding Them with Questions


    I became cold and arrogant. While I was nervous during their first visit, I also felt resentful this time.


    The cops‘ attitudes, expressions, and tone annoyed me.


    I’m curious, officers. What exactly are you investigating? Although I’m not a professional, I know you’ve


    missed some crucial questions, I don’t know if you intentionally avoided asking them or if you already


    have the answers,” I spoke with skepticism.


    After a pause, I asked. “Why didn’t you ask me what Kennedy wanted to tell me?”


    Immediately after asking that question, I stared at the officer to observe his reaction. As expected, he


    was speechless.


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    The other officer awkwardly said, “That’s what we wanted to ask you next.”


    Then let me ask you two something. Did you overlook this question on your previous visit? Or did you


    avoid asking it? Maybe you already know what he wanted to tell me?” My follow–up questions were


    assertive.


    I continued questioning. “Since this case involves me, can I know why you’re investigating the cause of


    Kennedy’s death? Didn’t you say it was a drunk driving ident? If it were, is it necessary to question


    who he contacted before dying?”


    The two officers nced at each other again, and I knew my questions had affected them.


    “You don’t need to know because it’s confidential. You only need to cooperate with our investigation,”


    the


    older officer said impatiently.


    However, it further annoyed me. I became sterner, saying, “Have you considered how your actions will


    impact me? You came to mypany in uniform to question me. As a person involved in this matter, I


    have the right to know what’s happening.


    They exchanged nces again and were about to retort, but I interrupted them again.


    “You’vee here twice for questioning but won’t tell me why. It makes me anxious, and I can’t eat or


    sleep properly. Don’t you realize that? I was unyielding as I stared at the two officers


    “We’re only conducting routine inquiries. Please don’t feel pressured,” the younger officer said


    smilingly.


    His tone became more rxed and respectful


    1 knew my words had affected them, so I continued, “I want to know if Kennedy died in a car ident,


    as


    you said. ording to you, it was a freak ident. If so, why are you still investigating, and why did he


    die immediately after requesting to meet me?


    “I’m losing my mind here. What world do we live in where people die for nothing? Am I also in danger?”


    I cleverly formed my questions, hoping to get clues from the cops. After all, Kennedy was about to tell


    me about As, yet the former died on his way to meet me. Anyone would find that highly unsettling.


    “Can we ask you another question then?” the older officer asked.


    “Go ahead. I can’t refuse since you’re already here, right?” I kept my sharp attitude.


    I knew I needed to be assertive. After all, the cops treated me like a suspect when they came in.


    However, my firm demeanor demanded their respect.


    “So, what’s your rtionship with Mr. As?”


    “We’re good friends and business partners.” I shrugged and spread my hands, answering calmly. I


    guessed they might be embarrassed to pry because it would be intrusive.


    “Then what kind of information do you want about him?” Finally, I heard the crucial question and


    couldn’t


    help but smile.


    “I think you’ve finally hit the mark,” I praised the officers, “You should’ve asked this key question thest


    time you came.”


    I nced at them arrogantly before answering their question. I wanted to use this chance to gauge the