"Let's talk at your house," Luke said, and headed straight for the apartment.
The room was in complete disarray, with various items scattered all over the floor: tables, chairs, lamps, wine glasses, pillows, etc.
"Mr. Yarolim, did World War III break out here?"
Rudger Jaroilm sighed, "My wife loves to throw things when she gets angry."
"So, you hit her."
"No, I've never hit her."
"Then how did she get the injury on her face?"
"It was an accident."
From the looks of the scene, it indeed seemed like a fight had taken place, but Luke had asked two questions, and Rudger Jaroilm didn't show any signs of lying.
"Did she hit you?"
Rudger Jaroilm swallowed hard, "No."
Lies!
Luke said, "Roll up your sleeves."
Rudger Jaroilm's voice carried a hint of pleading, "Please don't do this."
"Mr. Yarolim, now that the police are involved, we have to get to the bottom of this. Do as I say."
