In the interrogation room, facing the Venetian mirror, there was a young man who gave the impression that his youth was regularly passing away with each dose of the hard drug he took.
His hair was too long and messy and dirty, as if they hadn't seen a comb or water for at least a week. His clothes also clearly showed that this man was not doing very well lately. If Kevin Moore walked into the interrogation room now, he would surely smell the characteristic smell of people living on the street.
Tommy Mitchel, twenty-five. Punished for petty thefts. He was charged for theft at the drugstore," Sullivan was explaining. "He had a phone with him which it turned out belonged to Rita Evans. When the policeman who questioned him asked where he had get it from, Mitchel confessed to the murder of a striper. Then they sent him us. "
"Did he say what was his motive?" Kevin Moore asked, his eyes never leaving the man on the other side of the mirror.
