• Makini wonders out loud with Sophia about veracity of new resident's story
One day I asked a lawyer, “How are you able to defend people you know are guilty?”
He said, “Guilty or not, everyone has a right to proper legal representation.”
“What about your conscience? How do you sleep at night, knowing someone who committed a crime is out on the street because of you?”
He smiled. “I sleep as well as a mason after a long day’s work.”
I know. Smug, right?
But then he threw me a curve ball. “What about you, Mr Policeman. How would you feel if you arrested an innocent person and he ended up in jail? How would you sleep at night?”
That’s the dilemma I find myself in as we speak. Yesterday, a guy called Daniel Siva (likes to go by Dee) moved into the flat next to mine and went into great detail about how he had stolen a lorry full of illegal cash belonging to his former employer.
“We should report it,” says my colleague Sgt Sophia.
“And say what — some guy confessed to stealing from a criminal?”
“We report him, he rats on whomever he stole from. Two birds with one stone.”
“What if the guy is just blowing hot air, huh? Maybe he likes to tell tales so he can seem better than everyone else.”
“You know what? You might be right. Maybe he’s a professional liar.”
I laugh. “Professional liar?”
“Yes. Someone who has graduated to bigger lies than the ones people tell every day. I once read a study that said 60 per cent of people 18 and older are incapable of having a conversation without lying once every 10 minutes.”
“What? That’s like six lies an hour. Like one hundred and…” I pause to do the math. “One hundred and forty-four times a day.”
“Yes, assuming they don’t sleep and stay up jawing for 24 straight hours.”
“No way. I don’t lie that often.”
“There you go. That was your first.”
“C’mon. It’s true. I try to be honest as much as I can.”
“That’s two. Should I keep counting? And that’s on top of ‘Weed to catch up’ or ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes’.”
“And ‘I didn’t get your text.’”
She cackles. “‘This is delicious.’”
Now I’m offended. “You say that all the time when I cook.”
“Oh, no, hun. I usually mean it. I’m just saying people lie about that, too.”
“Okay, I get it. By the way, you look really beautiful today.”
“Why, thank you.” She makes a face. “Wait a doggone minute. You’re lying to hit back at me. That’s mean, Makini.”
“Oh, no, hun. I mean it.”
Just then, Dee walks into the Police Post. “Wow! Makini. You didn’t tell me you were the law around these parts.”
“Would it have made a difference?” I ask.
“What are you talking about? It’s great to live next to a policeman. I feel much safer already.”
“What can we do for you?”
He takes off his watch. “Is there a reputable watch maker around here? I don’t think my Rolex is keeping proper time. I need it tuned.”
Sophia takes the watch and whistles. “Oh-la-la! This is heavy. Is it genuine?”
“Dee wears nothing but the real thing. That’s the Oyster Perpetual Submariner. Costs a cool 30 grand. But honestly, I didn’t buy it myself.”
Sophia and I exchange looks. Is he about to confess to another crime?
“Where did you get it?” Sophia asks.
“It was a gift from the former President.”
My eyes bulge in surprise. “The immediate former…”
“Yap. I said to him, ‘That’s a pretty watch, sir.’ He said, ‘You like it? You can have it.’”