Interrogation rooms suck.  Actually, I've only been in the one, this one, but I feel safe to assume they're all quite similar.  They're empty and uncomfortable and with bad lighting.  I suppose there isn't terribly too much of a budget for some sort of jail interior designer and no one wants their tax money spent on murder suspects.  I had been in the small room for half and hour already completely alone.  No one had come in or out even once. No good cop/bad cop schtick.  No offering of coffee or doughnuts.  I figured they were trying to make me sweat.  Maybe even trick me into paying some of those speeding tickets I haven't paid yet. I wasn't going down on that one without a fight.  Those tickets weren't even past due yet. 

I was on my seventeenth count of all the tiles on the floor when the door finally opened. In walked two slightly to moderately balding men holding a light stack of papers. They looked like they were doing their best to look intimidating and I felt a case of good cop/bad cop coming on. 

"Ms. Abraham, do you know why we came to your work and brought you here today?" The officer with a slightly fuller head of hair asked.  His name tag read Detective Jones.  I supposed that's what he would like to have been called regardless of the fact that he hadn't actually introduced himself.

"You need a better accountant?" They sighed collaboratively as if they didn't have the time, but quite honestly, neither did I.  I was my firm's best and only accountant and surely they had to be missing me.  It's really difficult, accounting is.  People think it's all just numbers and whatnot and, well, mostly it is, but numbers can be overwhelming.  There's a lot of counting involved.

"I'm really flattered for the extremely forward job offer, but I'm extremely happy where I'm at." I smirked before I continued.  "Unless, of course you want to start talking money."

"Is that why you killed Mr. Timberlake, Ms. Abraham?  For Money?"

Damnit. 

I was trying to be clever, not give them an opening.

"Our file here says you grew up in Anchorage, Alaska with three siblings to a single mother.  That must've been financially difficult for you guys." He was trying to get me to confess and when I didn't respond, he continued.

"Our file also says that you took to shoplifting at thirteen."

"I stole a pair of shoes once and when my mom found out, she made me return them.  How is that even on my record? Let me see that file." I held my hand out arrogantly as if I had any authority in this place. They both grinned at each other as if they had just got me to confess something. Which I suppose they did.  I had watched enough CSI episodes to know that you don't have a permanent file before the ago of 18. Stupid. They looked like they were now gaining enough confidence to coerce me into confessing to a murder. I hated them. I wish they would get murdered.

"Shoplifting is shoplifting, Ms. Abraham.  I'm sure that's how the public will feel when they find out about this."

I put my hand back in my lap and leaned back into the cool metal chair.  I needed to think. This was a very unwelcome change. I wasn't used to thinking much outside of work. In fact, I tried not to think much outside of work. Accounting is really hard. That is what I would tell any college student who decided to pick accounting because it seems easy enough and is a sure fire career in a recession. I would tell them that everything they heard about accounting was a lie. Okay, well, maybe not everything.  It's true that for most of the year you really have minimal work to do, and you can vacation basically any season except tax season, but it's still really hard. It's a lot of looking through receipts and that is tedious and mind boggling. Not all receipts look the same, you know? That will be the beginning of my speech, I have decided, and if that speech goes well, it will also be the title of my best-selling book. My best-selling book that will eventually make it on Oprah's list, which will then prompt an interview on her talk show. Which will then be the most watched episode of her show ever. Even more watched than that one episode about those mothers who took those prenatal vitamins in Europe and had babies born with flippers in place of arms. My ego knows no tact.

'How much of a promotion do you guys get for figuring out such a high profile case like this?" I finally asked.

"More than you can even wrap your mind around." Baldy announced, rubbing his hands together with greed.

"I'm an accountant!" I yelled. I just get the feeling they haven't been listening to me. It was beginning to get to me. I mean, I know accounting is a boring and even forgettable job, but it does serve a pretty damn important purpose. I can wrap my head around a lot of money. I do it every day. This world runs on money. I make that possible. 

"Yes, that's right. So you are. That's a pretty uninteresting job, you've got there." Baldy pointed out. I couldn't argue with him there, so I let him continue.

"You must've known exactly how much Mr. Timberlake was worth, and you must've known exactly how much you could smuggle from his account before you offed him."

I laughed. "Offed him? That's ridiculous." I waved my hand in front of my face to show how unaffected by them I really was.

"No, Mrs. Abraham, what's ridiculous is that we pulled you from you mediocre job in your mediocre life to tell you and accuse you of your billionaire superstar exboyfriend's death, and all you can talk about is accounting. That's ridiculous."

That's the first time in all of this mess I actually felt something other than annoyance. I tried to swallow, but I couldn't. I couldn't tell if I was even breathing anymore, but I figured I should try harder to find out. If they noticed I stopped breathing, they would take it as an attempt at suicide and surely book me for murder.

"I'm refuse to speak anymore until instructed from my attorney." I gave in. I didn't think it would come to this. I thought I would be let go and could return to my mediocre job and my mediocre life tomorrow, but this is turning out to be more invasive than i previously thought.

"As you wish." The detectives stood up and headed for the door, smiling at the thought of their giant bonuses.

"And accounting is really hard!" I yelled after them childishly. I wasn't even sure if they heard me, but it needed to be said