"And, would you say you've had any enemies, Mrs. Frost? You, your family, your husband?… your daughter?" Bruce lights up a cigarette, as he and his one-eyed partner sit a little too cozily on a small love seat in the living of the Frosts, A suburban type family: Mother's a drug-addict empty-nester housewife and father's a law professor. They live on the prestigious lower-west side of Petrina City, where the dogs are quite small and the egos are (among some other parts of people) are quite large.
"Would you say your daughter ran with any strange sorts of people?" Simon asks, as Mrs. Frost lights up a smoke, no doubt under sedation from FG-5, staring blankly at Bruce, who has yet to say a word, but decides to take over.
"What we are trying to do here, Mrs Frost, is make connections between your recently dea--" Simon bumps Bruce hard, and Bruce clears his throat, "your recently deceased daughter, and whoever would have taken her life." He clears his throat again. "What we are trying to do is" he begins dividing an imaginary pie in front of him, as if showing blank Mrs. Frost presentation, "develop what sorts of motives somebody might have for murdering your daughter." She continues to give Bruce the FG-5 trademarked hopeless stare, he throws his hands up as if giving up, and turns to Simon, both standing suddenly "I can't take this." he says, "I gotta finish my smoke outside. She must have been pretty damn good at losing touch and being frighteningly silent before the drugs… and now she's just…" He makes a motion with in the air of one hand taking off from the other quickly makes "PJJJJWWWIIIIIOOOO" noise with his lips.
They stand, backs to her, and lower their voices as well as their demeanor, "If she won't give us information that could solve her daughter's homicide, then we're wasting our time here."
"Give me five minutes with her, Brucie. She is one of the closest ones to the victim." Simon lights up a cigarette. "Besides, maybe she'll warm up to me once you leave." He puts his arm around his partners shoulder, somewhat condescendingly, "I don't think she likes you very much. She's giving you the death stare." They both look directly at Mrs. Frost, who is pushing Bruce to leave her house with her eyes.
He gives Mrs. Frost a cold, frosty stare of his own and states matter-of-factly, "Ma'am, you need some serious deliverance," before leaving the house.
Simon sits on the couch again, and Mrs. Frost almost immediately opens up. "I really don't like his types."
"Not many people do," Simon smiles and gets out his pad, ready to jot down Mrs. Frost's words.
"He has an evil way about him."
"Yes, he does, Mrs. Frost." He puts his warm smile away and begins to look more frustrated, before clearing his throat. "Now, can we talk about your daughter, please?"
"Sure." She looks coldly across the room at the Frost's prized family portrait, now lying about its members.
His mannerisms become more welcoming again. "You don't seem too concerned about your daughter's death, Mrs. Frost, you mind telling me why? Is it a bad relationship thing, or can I assume it's the FG-5?"
"I know you're on it too," she says, pointing at Simon. "Everyone on it seems to be able to pick out whoever else is, so how do I know I can trust your amplified characteristics, Mr. Murphy?"
"It seems you can't." Simon uncomfortably adjusts his tie. "Can we at least rule you out on being the murderer, because she's your daughter, and assume that you would feel remorse if you weren't popping so much amp?" Her eyes begin to well up the slightest bit, which concerns Simon, who knows she will soon need a new pill. "Do you need another pill, Mrs. Frost?"
"No, I'll be fine."
"Are you sure, I have some."
"I only take my own, I mix 'em myself. I just ran out, so I might try to quit." She tries to light another smoke, but cannot because her lips, hands, and eyes are beginning to shake rapidly. "Starting now" she faintly and tiredly whispers.
She begins sweating profusely, and Simon gets off the couch, rushes to the front door side of it, and backs away. "You're not supposed to do that, Mrs. Frost. Either of those: mixing your own or quitting suddenly. You know what the immediate withdrawal can be like, Mrs.--"
Before he can continue, she snaps her neck from side to side and she begins yelling mostly useless babble at him, with an occasional "you don't know him, he's different," or a, "she was supposed to be our little princess." She starts throwing some of the family's expensive trinkets at Simon, as he throws a pill at her and urges her to take it, without success. Bruce hears the racket and looks in the front door, only to have a chair thrown at him. "Get that lunatic out of my house!" she screams pointing at the door Bruce has already exited again.
Simon quickly eases towards Mrs. Frost to grab his coat off the back of the couch, nabs it and runs out the door yelling, "Thank you for your time!"
On the way to the car, Simon says, "I don't think she's fucked up enough to murder her own daughter."
"Who knows, Simon," He pushes his index and middle finger pressed together onto Simon's chest, "you can't trust the statements either way with an Amp-head." He releases Simon from his gaze, straightens out his coat, begins to smirk, walks towards the car. "I'm surprised I trust you as much as I do."
"Shut the hell up, Bruce," Simon pops another pill quickly, this time washing it down with whiskey from a flask from his inside pocket, "before I decide to kick your ass." They both get into the car. "I need to get home and get some sleep."
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Simon is awoken suddenly from his slumber by his cell phone ringing. "Huuulo?" he answers thinking about going back to sleep and reading 4:55am on his bedside clock.
"This is the chief, Simon."
"Do you sleep at all?"
"not as long as people get murdered."
"What's happening?"
"Mrs. Nancy Frost was found dead late last night."
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