It had just been a normal day. The sun was shining. Birds chirping, kids laughing everywhere. And, out of nowhere, it was now cold, loud, and dark. I, looking around, found myself to be in a police station. It happened out of nowhere. My eyes showed fear as I was sat in front of a policeman, trying to recall what thing I might’ve done that could’ve caused this.  
The policeman started his questioning: “Paul, right? Paul Jackson?” 

     “Y-Yeah,” I replied.  

     He continued, “So, Mr. Jackson, you know why you’re here, right?” 

     I had nothing to say. I was in shock, not understanding what was happening.  

     “No,” I finally say, “I-I’ve got no idea.” 

     The policeman sighed while putting down his notepad and pen. He leaned back on his chair, looked down, and said, “Paul, you’re aware of what happened to James, right?” 
James and I had been best friends since I could remember, we had never been apart. Recently, James and I had gotten into an argument and went no contact. I hadn’t heard from James since.  

     He noticed my confusion, and so he continued: “He was found dead in his apartment a week ago.” 

     My eyes roamed around the room as I tried to take it in. I looked at my hands, and then I looked back at him. I was in disbelief and in shock, but at the same time confused as to why I was called into the police station just to get told that. 
     “Oh,” was the only thing I could get out, trying to understand, “why was I called into the police station then?” 

     Without even two seconds passing since I said that I understood exactly what was going on. I was a suspect, obviously. It made sense. My eyebrows furrowed as I realized, thinking how stupid it was for me to be a suspect, but understanding why the questioning was mandatory and needed considering my close relations with James.  

     “Autopsy shows bruises around the neck and chest, meaning he fought for his life,” he took a deep breath, looked at me, and continued talking, “I’ll cut it short for you Mr. Jackson, where were you on the night of April 23rd,  at exactly 12pm?  
     Just as I had guessed.  

     “My house. I didn’t leave my house that day except for at 10am for my morning stroll with my dog.”

      He sighed. I could tell I wasn’t the first person he had questioned on this case.  
     “Listen, James was my best friend. I would obviously never do such a thing, and I’d do anything to prove my innocence and help you find out who did it.”   

     After some time, they finally let me go.   

     That day, the rest of it, I talked to people. I talked to everyone I could think of. I went around asking whoever I could find about that day. April 23rd. I asked his close family and friends their side of the story, and who James’ could’ve had bad relations with, and who might’ve wanted to harm him like this. 

      Most of them said the same thing.  

     “Well, you know, James was liked by all his peers. He had a good personality and was a good man, he only wanted to spread kindness.”  

     As I went back to the police station the next day, I told the same policeman everything that happened:  

     “Then, the rest of the people I asked let me know that there was a mystery guy involved. Someone by the name of Harry, who had been in James’ life for a relatively long time. It had not been for a good reason though. Apparently, James had wronged him, so the guy was after James. He wanted payback, and he was going to get it. Many neighbors had seen that same mystery guy leave James’ house on April 23rd at around the same time frame the murder  happened.”  

      He wrote everything I said down in his notepad. He examined his notes after and said that this is definitely something to look over and investigate, and he thanked me as I left the office. 

     As I sat on my couch weeks later, TV open, I saw the news. An arrest had been made.  I shut off the TV and smiled.

     I stared at the wall and I thought about everything. I thought about James’ death, and I thought about Harry. I got shivers down my spine as I thought of it all going down, him screaming for help and nobody being around, his blood splattered all over the kitchen. How maybe all of this wouldn’t have happened if we never had an argument.  

     Late at night, I tried to recall everything that had happened before I stormed out of James’ house that night. I recalled the argument, I recalled the bloody knife, and I recalled the screams.  

     Being able to have fooled everyone pleased me.