Interrogation room was antiseptic and clad in stainless steel. The only furniture a vid table and four chairs. The bitter stench of ag fuel and body odor permeated the interrogation room. With a dirty shirt and a dirtier scowl, Max Devlin, security team leader of FlorCorp, sat arms folded. Myrtle could tell Max liked to fold his arms to show off his tanned biceps and sleeves of tattoos. In a 10,000 credit business suit his attorney, Liberty English was pin perfect.

“9:49 am. Interview commence. Present Max Devlin, Liberty English, attorney, Det. Benjamin Hatchett, and Chief Myrtle TwoAxes,” Hatchett said.

“Detective Hatchett, I must protest this harassment of my client. Our organization has—“ English said.

“Shut your face, I’ll tell you when to talk, grayboy,” Max shouted.

The attorney’s handsome face shut down. From his body language Myrtle could tell he was accustomed to being slapped.

“Mr. Devlin what can you tell us about these suspicious fires across the Valley,” Hatchett said while a series of burnt buildings images appeared on the table,” Hatchett asked.

Ignored Hatchett, Max looked down at his grease caked fingernails. Hatchett gave Max the smile that meant he wanted to smash someone in the face.

“The word on the streets is that Big Flower is moving in on the indie farmers. What do have to say about that?” Hatchett asked.

“Using rumors to besmirch the character of FlorCorp and its employees—“ English said.

Max shoved his attorney out of his chair to the ground. Hatchett shot upright. The room’s alarm system blared. Myrtle tapped the reset alarm code on the table.

“Benji,” she said softly. Myrtle hadn’t spoken Hatchett’s first name in a long time. They looked at each other for a moment and the detective sat down.

“I apologize. I’m a bit clumsy. No harm done.” The attorney brushed nonexistent dust from his suit and righted his chair. He sat down not meeting his client’s eyes.

“Woohoo,” Max hooted. “I heard about you chief. I like this silent tough guy shit you’re pulling right now. Very Phillip Marlow. Very sexy. Is that why you invited down here on my day off because you want a real man?” Max’s eyes looked from the Chief of Enceladus Security and her detective and back again. “You’re welcome to my ranch and I can put you through the paces.” Max looked Myrtle up and down.

“You are a very small looking to be big. You started as a bully on the schoolyard. You graduated to paramilitary not out of honor but to be control other soldiers. And now your all big guns, big trucks, and vanity muscles on a great big ranch that you couldn’t possibly afford on your salary.”

Hatchett tapped the table and photo of Max appeared on his new Cessna hovertract in front of his McMansion.

“Mr. Devlin we invited you here so your FlorCorp attorney could wonder what’s your side hustle and whether you are worth protecting.”

Hatchett tapped again the table filled with images from social media of Max and his brother and his entire team on sports cars, on vacations, on big ranches of their own.

“Farewell My Lovely. 9:58 am. Interview over,” Hatchett said with a grin.