Dressed in a wrinkled gray trench coat, the detective with an alligator snout locked the door shut behind the accused that slobbered and drooled on the old speckled vinyl flooring as he slid inside the over-heated interrogation chamber.

The accused lumbered his five hundred pound plus carcass across the floor.  The creature eventually reached the tiny red cushioned chair behind the table.  Hoisting himself upon the undersized resting apparatuses, the alleged criminal cupped all eight of his hands, intertwined its arms, and rested all of them upon the cold, metal table top.  Not a stranger to Precinct 47, the nervous, but self confident fellow followed the inspector’s pacing like a child anticipating a severe spanking from one of his fathers.

The bulbous headed one sneered back without a word.

"From what I hear on the street, you’ve had a grudge against their kind for centuries," the interrogator said as he put out his cigarette under his right front paw.

Angered by the callous attitude, Goddard swung his tail around his body and slammed it upon the table.  He nearly knocked the Hermotite’s horn-rimmed glasses off his head.  "What would a pot-bellied, pig like you know about odor?"

The suspect regrouped himself in the chair, straightened his eyewear, and countered saying, "Sticks and stones; detective, sticks and stones . . ."

This caught Slattery’s attention.

The marbles bounced up.  Each ball orbited a small bright orb directly above the table.

"Notice anything unusual about this grouping, Slats?"  Goddard said loudly as he slid behind the creature and shoved his head towards the spherical entities.

"You’re a funny guy, Sluggo," Goddard chuckled to himself as walked to the front of the circling orbs hovering three feet above the table.  "I bet you got a good laugh when you snuffed out those billions of life forms out like a swarm of Pervuvian locust caught in a bug zapper."  The long arms of the law reached out and clutched the accused by his mushy shoulder blades.

"You had the means, motive and opportunity to destroy that globe, Fatso; and if it takes me a million years to baby-sit you in this dungeon to extract the truth out of you, so be it."

And that’s when Goddard laid down his final card.

"You forget, Slattery, I’m wise to you and your kind.  What’s it been, three, four months that the Hermotites developed a way to create mini-wormholes for teleportation?"

This time, not one but dozens of sweat beads rolled down the creature’s face.

"You could be in one place one moment, like your home, and more than a one hundred thousand light years away in an instant."  Goddard leaned into the suspect’s face before saying, "Do you want a lawyer now or after you confess?"

As Slattery wiped his face dry with the tip of his flexible pink nose, the inspector took that as an impending confession.  The detective crossed his arms and nodded his head in satisfaction.

Before he could call the public defender for the sobbing murderer, a harsh knock rattled the titanium door.

"Wrong room, Dante," grumbled the disinterested cop who pointed next door and to the right with his thumb.

"Sure, I’ll take this one down there," the newbie replied as he dragged yet another red devil by its pointy tail to the inner ring of the police station for a similar crime against an innocent population living on a small rock circling a large sun.