Michael Serves the Secret Soup — Part 1

Short Story — People have always felt a strong urge to tell him their secrets. But a revelation during a recent confession upends everything Michael has ever known.

“I’ve got something of a gift for making people talk,” I told the shackled man on the other side of the interrogation room table. “That’s why they brought me in.” I jerked my thumb toward a pair of uniformed beat cops flanking the door behind me.

The broken ventilation fan puttered along in the ducts overhead, barely stirring the stale air in. The suspect massaged his bruised knuckles, occasionally looking over my shoulder to the camera recording our interaction.

All of this was just background noise to me. Not once did I look away from him. If I did, the whole painstaking process would have to start over.

“I’m not telling you shit.” Flecks of spittle landed on my face. Disgusting. But I couldn’t move, not even to flinch. The trance was already taking hold of the man: his head had stopped moving, and a glazed, milky look fell over his dark brown eyes. “Your little trick won’t—” was all he managed before his pupils fractured into a shattered sunburst pattern. A single tear rolled out from the corner of each eye.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you feel like telling me, mister O’Brian? I scooted in my chair without breaking eye contact. “Maybe about Penelope Baker?”

His muscles convulsed, rattling his manacles against the metal table. The process always looked agonizing. I’d almost feel bad, if it weren’t for the fact that—

“I killed her!” The words erupted out of his mouth like water from a geyser. “Beat her with my bare hands. Dumped the body behind the corner store.”

“That enough?” I asked.

“Yeah, that should do just fine,” replied a voice from an intercom speaker.

I was halfway to my feet when the man leapt after me, grabbing onto the lapels of my jacket.

“No!” He pleaded like a little kid begging for another piece of candy. “No, you can’t go yet. There’s so much more I need to tell you!”

One of the officers grabbed the suspect and shoved him back into the chair.

“Please!” He called after me as I slipped out of the interrogation room.