I tried to follow what he was saying. My brow furrowed, the confusion showing plainly on my face. "Wait just a sec," I said, shaking my head. "You're going too fast! I just can't grasp what you're telling me." I felt dizzy. This was too much information too fast. It raised more questions than it answered.
I felt distinctly uncomfortable and quite nervous, the unease slipping over me like a cold damp blanket. I wondered if he was doing this on purpose, to confuse me further, keep me off balance, off guard. Maybe he thought I knew more than I was telling and maybe he knew much more than he was willing to reveal. This flash of insight startled me, and I quickly composed myself. This wasn't my first time experiencing a revelation like this and I had learned quickly to heed those instincts. Unsure now if I could trust the detective, I decided I would have to proceed cautiously.
I took a deep breath and in a carefully modulated tone that belied my new-found wariness said, "Tell me exactly what the janitor has to do with this, and who were they surveiling?"