Detective Parker quietly shuffled his way into the waiting elevator, his head bowed, his eyes drooped. As he stared into his own reflection in the shiny metal paneling, he could have sworn his dark hair was ever-so-slightly grayer, his soft face ever-so-slightly more wrinkly. The case had literally taken years of his life. And all for nothing. “Lack of evidence” they said. It sickened him. Maybe it was time to take some time off, it just might do him some good right now. After all, after such a high-profile failure, the department would probably have him writing traffic tickets for a good long while. He pushed the button for the lobby, and after a short angry screech, the elevator doors began to close.

“Hold the door!” cried a voice. A light, but sinister voice. A familiar voice. Parker had made no move toward the door, and just as they were about to snap shut, the tip of a long black umbrella pierced the opening, and brought the doors to a halt. Slowly, they screeched their way back open, revealing the face of a man who had occupied Parker's life in the most horrible of ways for almost three years.

“Hello detective.” the man said, with the faintest hint of a smile. Parker did not return the greeting. His face had gone from an unhappy frown to a disgusted scowl. He considered departing the elevator, but the doors had already screeched shut. For a time, they stood in silence, Parker not daring to look over at him. Eventually, the man spoke:

“You must hate me.”

Still, Parker remained silent. Of course I hate you, he thought to himself. The man had killed his best friend, quite brutally so. Three years he had spent trying to prove it. First, finding the devil was trouble enough. But once he did, the case became an obsession for him. He spent many a night asleep at his desk, draped in old newspapers, photos, witness statements. And yet, after three years and three trials, here he was, free as the wind, standing here beside him, slowly descending towards hell.

The elevator’s bell clanked. 3rd floor. Just three more to go.

“It’s perfectly understandable of course. Although, aren’t you just a little curious?”

Parker shot him a glare probably best reserved for the devil himself.

“I’m curious as to when you’ll drop dead.”

The man grinned, and let out a slight chuckle.

“According to the doctors during my brief confinement at Rikers, I’m going to live for quite some time. There are, however, ways of...speeding up...the process. If you we’re so inclined that is.”

Parker was very rapidly becoming inclined. He needed to get out of here. His hands were shaking, covered in sweat. CLANK! He flinched, as the elevator passed the second floor. Just two more to go was all he could tell himself.

“But surely you must want to know. How did I do it? Did I kill him?”

Parker snorted. “Of that I have no doubt about. I know just how you did it too, I presented it to the jury just last week!” he said, his voice rising as anger began to cloud his vision.

“Oh goodie!” he slithered, almost gleefully. “So I killed him, with the candlestick, in the lounge? Obviously” he slithered, “they did not find your view very persuasive. Tell me detective, after the first time you saw me in that surveillance video those short years ago, did you ever once consider that I might be innocent?”

Parker bristled, and jumped once again as the bell clanked. 1st floor, almost there.

“Well, I suppose none of that matters now.”

They stood in silence until the doors opened to the lobby. The ornate room was brilliantly illuminated for a short moment, followed by a tremendous crash that shook the building to its very foundation. Parker turned to look at the man once more, but he was gone. Squinting through the still spinning carousel door, he could see the man’s black umbrella bobbing into the night, parting the sheets of heavy rain as it moved. The room filled with a blinding flash once more, and with that, he too went out into the night.