Lying to the Police

The police were astonishingly polite. They knocked at Richard’s front door, waited patiently for Richard to answer their knock, and when he answered, explained that they were conducting a routine investigation of an auto theft, and wanted ask him “just a few questions.” They even called him “sir.”

As one officer, a lumbering man who looked as if he had killed many criminals in his career, began to ask Richard if he had any knowledge of a couple that he may have seen walking along Mulholland on June 30th--a thin brunette in her mid-to-late 30s dressed in a print dress and a man wearing dark blue jeans and a striped businessman’s shirt--Richard couldn’t help but lie, “No, I didn't see anyone by that description.”

How did they ever find me? Richard worried, almost audibly, as he smiled a big, charming smile, as he lied to the two police officers.

The policemen, seemingly satisfied by Richard’s denial of having seen Jackie and Buck, departed from Richard's doorstep, but not before one of the officer’s, the quiet one who had let his partner do all the questioning, turned to Richard and said, “By the way, we may need to call on you in the future…I hope you don’t mind.”