detects lying

“NO,” LIED A small, fragile-looking woman who said her name was Maria, a resident of the third floor. She hadn’t opened the door more than the security chain allowed. “I didn’t hear or see anything.”
I tried to make my smile reassuring. “Ma’am, the way this usually works is that I ask you a question, and then you tell me a lie. If you give me a dishonest answer before I have the chance to ask the question, it offends my sense of propriety.”
Her head shook in quick, jerky spasms as her eyes widened. “N-no. I’m not lying. I don’t know anything.”
Maria tried to shut the door. I got my boot into it first. “You’re lying,” I said, gently. “You’re scared. I get that. I’ve gotten the same treatment from almost everyone in the building.”
She looked away from me, as if seeking an escape route. “I’ll c-call the police.”
“I am the police,” I said. Which was technically true. They hadn’t fired me yet.
“Oh, God,” she said. She shook her head more and more, desperation in the gesture. “I don’t want to be . . . I can’t be seen talking to you. Go away.”


Side Jobs, Aftermath, Page 354-355