The Tragedy Script

Hazel stared at Max, her brain short-circuiting.

So... those things were used for...

"Mr. Mason," Detective Wayne said, hesitating. He tried to phrase the question as delicately as possible. "If it's convenient... could you tell us exactly why you installed that kind of equipment?"

Technically speaking, the gear was borderline illegal—the kind of tech that skirted the razor's edge of the law. But Detective Wayne, sticking to his professional code, didn't jump to conclusions. He had bigger problems.

"The gear is handy, sure," Wayne said. "But since we're sharing, I was hoping you could answer a question for me."

Max didn't blink. He just flipped the script on the detective.

"Go ahead," Max said. "I couldn't help but overhear earlier... you guys actually knew the suspect, didn't you?"

"Uh... well, yes." Wayne looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

Admitting this was airing the department's dirty laundry. "Three years ago, York held a high-ranking position in the Major Crimes Unit. He was one of us. But he went corrupt, got locked up, and only just got released."

Everyone in the room who hadn't known the backstory looked like their eyes were about to pop out of their heads.

"I knew it!" Vivian snapped her fingers. "I said that guy had moves. He was actually trained."

"To be honest," Wayne admitted, "York was the runner-up in the national fighting tournament. I'm actually shocked you two managed to take him down."

"Huh. Got it." Max rubbed his chin, nodding thoughtfully. Then, he dropped the bomb, acting like it was just a passing thought. "Hey, Ms. Lane? Isn't there some legal rule about... I don't know, family avoidance or something?"

Hazel paused. She saw the glint in Max's eye and caught the ball immediately.

"You're right," she said, switching into Lawyer Mode. "There is a 'recusal policy.'"

She rattled it off like a textbook. "Administrative law enforcement must remain impartial. If an officer has a personal relationship or conflict of interest with a suspect, they are legally required to recuse themselves to ensure a fair investigation. Furthermore, officers are required to inform witnesses of their right to request a different officer if they feel there's a bias."

If Wayne didn't get the hint now, he should hand in his badge.

Max wasn't just asking a question; he was pointing out a massive liability. York was an ex-cop. If his old buddies were in this room, they might try to protect him or skew the investigation.

"Uh... apologies. That was my oversight," Wayne stammered, looking embarrassed. He turned to a stiff-looking officer.

"Sir!" William stood up. He looked pale.

"Given William's past history as the suspect's subordinate," Wayne announced formally, "he is hereby recused from this case. No one is to discuss details with him until the investigation concludes. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" the room chorused.

William shot a nasty look at Max, gave Wayne a stiff nod, and marched out of the conference room.

"Mr. Mason, Ms. Lane," Wayne said, turning back to them. "I assure you, everyone left in this room is clean. When York went down, he took a lot of people with him. The unit was practically rebuilt. Most of us, myself included, were transferred here later. We barely knew the guy."

Wayne was trying to save face, but his eyes were glued to Max.

Recusal policies were obscure stuff. Most civilians wouldn't know about them, let alone have the guts to throw them in a lead detective's face. Even Wayne had momentarily forgotten the risk of York's old connections.

But Max? He not only spotted the danger moments after a life-or-death fight, but he also played it smart. He used Hazel to quote the law, reminding Wayne that there was a lawyer present who would bury the department if they tried anything shady.

Wayne felt a grudging respect. This kid wasn't just some lucky bystander.

In Wayne's book, Max Mason now had a few new labels attached to him: Meticulous. Watertight. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

That made sense. After all, how could a regular, boring insurance salesman possibly make a hardened criminal like York meet his Waterloo?

Max, of course, had no idea Detective Wayne was mentally dissecting him.

The only reason Max had dropped that hint about the police force's internal leak was that Hazel had mentioned it. She'd spent ten years investigating this case, and her notes vaguely referenced a mole.

But now, it was getting awkward. Even Hazel was looking at him with wide-eyed admiration.

It felt like total plagiarism. He was stealing the credit right in front of the original author, and she was applauding him for it. The guilt was real.

"Captain Wayne, please, don't mind me," Max said, waving a hand dismissively. "I don't really have any flaws, except for my crippling lack of security. It's embarrassing, really."

There it is again, the cops thought. The ubiquitous 'lack of security' excuse.

Detective Wayne's mouth twitched. "Mr. Mason, can you answer my previous question now?"

"Right! Of course!" Max's expression snapped back to serious. "First off, please don't get the wrong idea. I am a totally upstanding citizen. The only reason I installed that camera was because I felt... unsafe."

"Unsafe?" Wayne asked, suspicious. "In what way?"

And so, Max began his performance.

"It all started the day I bumped into Lily. Just a coincidence, really, but afterwards, I realized someone in the apartment complex was following us. I haven't been here long, my social circle is small, and I haven't exactly made any enemies. So, I thought, maybe they were after Lily?"

Max paused for dramatic effect.

"I wasn't sure at first. But over the next few days, I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on me. You know how it is—people who lack security are hypersensitive to bad vibes. So, I ran to the mall and bought the gear. Just for self-protection. You know, a man like me can't be too careful when he's out in the world these days... cough."

"Anyway! Who would have guessed?" Max continued. "Just a few days after I set it up, I caught someone sneaking into my room. Captain Wayne, did you notice what he was actually doing in the footage?"

Doing? Detective Wayne blinked. He'd been so busy being shocked that the camera existed, he hadn't analyzed the intruder's behavior.

"Officer Ruth, play it again," Wayne ordered. "And someone get Captain Vance on the line if we need backup."

The room fell silent as the video started over.

Even though it was a pinhole camera, Max had sprung for the high-end stuff. The resolution was crisp.

On screen, York entered the room. He didn't ransack it immediately. Instead, he scanned the area, then walked a slow circle around Max's bed, like he was hunting for something specific. He bent down and pinched something off the pillow—a hair, maybe?

Then, York moved to the wardrobe. He pulled out a jacket. Then he went to the shoe rack and grabbed a pair of shoes. Finally, he rifled through the kitchenware and took a specific utensil.

He shoved everything into his backpack. But he wasn't done. He pulled out several small vials and jars and spent a long time fiddling with Max's tableware—likely poisoning it or planting evidence.

Job done, York scanned the room one last time to ensure everything looked untouched, then slipped out the door.

Because of the fixed camera angle, some of York's actions were blocked by his own body, leaving the officers to guess at the details. But what they could see was baffling enough.

"Captain Wayne, you can see it too, right? He wasn't there for money," Max said, locking eyes with the detective.

Before Wayne could respond, Max pressed on.

"This guy is a pro. He put everything back exactly how he found it. And the things he stole? They were items I rarely use. If I didn't have this video, I wouldn't have noticed they were gone for weeks. Maybe never. Later, I checked my inventory. Missing items: one jacket, one pair of shoes, and... a paring knife."

The atmosphere in the room instantly tightened.

"Exactly," Max said. "If I'm not mistaken, the weapon York was holding tonight... was mine. To be precise, it's the knife I use to peel apples."