Read The Devil's Cinema for Free Online Page B

explained: a guy was missing, the police knew he had gone to Twitchell’s garage, and he had already admitted in the interview that the missing man’s licence plate and keys were in his own car. On top of that, here he was with a ludicrous story that he had bought the missing man’s vehicle for only forty dollars with no bill of sale from a mystery man with a Celtic knot tattoo. Twitchell had said repeatedly that he bought the car on October 15. But having checked in on the rest of the police team during the break earlier in the night, Clark knew Joss had already revealed how Twitchell had called him to move the car on October 17, while a neighbour had spotted the Mazda parked at the garage on October 14. And Twitchell’s version of events had changed repeatedly. It had changed from the previous night’s interview, changed from his written statement, and continued to change even while he was talking with Clark. The detective knew Twitchell was lying about the padlock and was suspicious about the barrel. The jerry can in his trunk made no sense either. Who buys a can of gas for a lawn mower they don’t own? Nothing was adding up. It was time to fess up.
    â€œYou’ve changed your whole story. Told all kinds of different lies.”
    As Clark picked off the list of inconsistencies, Twitchell hid his face with his hands and avoided looking at him. He stroked the bridge of his nose with his index finger, sighing repeatedly.
    â€œWhat happened to John, Mark? What did you do to him?”
    â€œI’m done,” Twitchell said. Clenching his first, he pressed his knuckles against his temples. He wanted out. “I’m just not talkin’ anymore.… This is ridiculous.”
    Clark didn’t budge. “Well, what is your explanation? You haven’t answered any of the questions! If you didn’t do anything wrong, why wouldn’t you answer those questions?”
    He stopped the interrogation briefly and tried to engage Twitchell as a friend.
    â€œWhat drove you to this? Obviously there’s something going on behind the scenes that I don’t know about. You seem like a decent guy that, hell, I’d even go have a beer with.”
    Twitchell looked up for a second and then furrowed his brow, deep in concentration.
    â€œThat’s the type of guy you come across as being,” Clark added, smiling. “Yet, you’re involved over your head in this.”
    Twitchell had seen this good cop, bad cop routine before and called Clark out on it: “Is anything that you’re saying genuine or is this some sort of tactic?”
    â€œYou gotta get away from the acting part, Mark, and listen to what I’m saying.” Clark turned aggressive. “You have told me
nothing
but lies. An innocent man does not come in here and tell lies. That’s
genuine
, Mark.… Everything I’m telling you in here is genuine.” He stopped for a second to let it sink in. “So get outta your film producer mode and the facade of thinking that everyone’s an actor.”
    Twitchell made a face and adjusted his feet.
    â€œThis is real life, all right? Real life. If you were telling me the truth, you would have one story. One story that would flow from beginning to end.” Clark waved his hand from right to left. “And you could repeat that story one hundred times with no changes.” He snapped his fingers. “Yours is soooo bad.”
    Twitchell remained silent, thinking, before finally responding. “I, I just … I know we’re not sitting in a movie, but it’s the cop thing.”
    â€œThis is real-life stuff,” Clark said. “You gotta get away from the movies.”
    â€œYeah, I know.” He sighed.
    â€œThat’s the problem here.” Clark pushed one last time. “You’re not gonna be able to live with yourself, with this, for the rest of your life.”
    Twitchell crossed his legs, tucked his