Detective Story
Robin Foale,
22/5/2013
The last
few steps on the third floor creak as a man in his forties turns the corner and
looks down the mundane corridor inside the tenement building. He notices the
police officer at the furthest door and approaches him, a slight limp as he
strides past the other doors. He can hear frantic muttering behind them. People
are scared, confused, the man understands these things.
"Sir" the portly police officer says to the man as he finally reaches him.
"Morning Dave. Anything new happened?" the man asks peering into the dark room behind the police officer.
"They’re about to take the body, apart from that just the tenants asking questions"
"Did you tell them anything?"
"No sir. Though I can't vouch for Alex, you know how his mouth runs"
"Quite... is he here yet?"
"Not yet... Ah! The body sir."
Two police officers with a stretcher can be seen turning the corner, a large male and small female who stop when they see the man in his forties.
"Sir" the two say in unison.
"Tom, Clara, May I?" the man asks as he lifts up the white sheet covering the corpse.
The body is one of a man in his twenties. Short messy brown hair only just covers his hazel eyes. Looking at his face the man can't help but sigh.
"Damn waste of a good kid."
"You knew him sir?" the big man known as Tom asks to which the man nods.
"Kid used to deliver my damn newspapers"
"Sorry sir, for your loss that is" the small girl known as Clara says sympathetically.
"Don't be, that was a good eight years ago... Now go on you two, I want to check out the crime scene"
"Yes sir!" the pair say in unison again as they push the stretcher away.
"All yours sir..." Dave the guard says as he lets the man pass. "Oh sir, you have some jam on your tie"
Hearing this the man in his forties looks down at his red tie, indeed it does have some purple jam on it.
"Ah crap, and I just washed this tie as well"
"Its ok sir. We all do it from time to time" Dave says reassuringly as the man limps pasts him and towards the mirror in the flat's hallway.
Positioning himself in front of it he sucks the jam off his tie as he takes his black suit jacket and puts it onto his shoulder. He peers at the stranger in front of him. Deep, sleep deprived green eyes, unshaven five o'clock shadow, unwashed and unkempt black hair. Even the man can tell he looks like a wreck as he straightens his grey shirt and steps under the police line and into the hot living room crime scene.
A single chair with signs of wear and tear sits in the centre of the room in front of a large cinema sized screen TV. The man can only look in awe, slightly surprised that the kid could afford such a thing whereas he only owns a ten inch.
An assortment of models from shows he has never seen litter the shelves alongside posters of calendar girls oddly angled on the walls.
"Hellooo Miss February!" a familiar voice says behind the man.
"Hello Alex" the man replies as he turns to face the new arrival.
The young man in his twenties is also wearing a black suit which covers his white shirt and green tie. His messy brown hair and blue eyes gleam with excitement as he inspects the room.
"So... how you doing Don?" Alex asks with a hint of mischief in his voice.
"That's sir to you" Don replies with a serious face.
"Whatever... by the way, you have some jam on you"
"Still? Damn it..."
"Relax, you don't need to apologise to your partner."
"Partner or not, I need to still set an example for the team" Don mutters as he inspects the chair. No blood or signs of a fight can be seen on it. "So... how did the paperboy die?"
"No clue! A neighbour hadn't heard from him in three days. When they went to check on him he was found dead. No stabs, bullet wounds or bludgeons... Nothing exciting at all."
"Sir" the portly police officer says to the man as he finally reaches him.
"Morning Dave. Anything new happened?" the man asks peering into the dark room behind the police officer.
"They’re about to take the body, apart from that just the tenants asking questions"
"Did you tell them anything?"
"No sir. Though I can't vouch for Alex, you know how his mouth runs"
"Quite... is he here yet?"
"Not yet... Ah! The body sir."
Two police officers with a stretcher can be seen turning the corner, a large male and small female who stop when they see the man in his forties.
"Sir" the two say in unison.
"Tom, Clara, May I?" the man asks as he lifts up the white sheet covering the corpse.
The body is one of a man in his twenties. Short messy brown hair only just covers his hazel eyes. Looking at his face the man can't help but sigh.
"Damn waste of a good kid."
"You knew him sir?" the big man known as Tom asks to which the man nods.
"Kid used to deliver my damn newspapers"
"Sorry sir, for your loss that is" the small girl known as Clara says sympathetically.
"Don't be, that was a good eight years ago... Now go on you two, I want to check out the crime scene"
"Yes sir!" the pair say in unison again as they push the stretcher away.
"All yours sir..." Dave the guard says as he lets the man pass. "Oh sir, you have some jam on your tie"
Hearing this the man in his forties looks down at his red tie, indeed it does have some purple jam on it.
"Ah crap, and I just washed this tie as well"
"Its ok sir. We all do it from time to time" Dave says reassuringly as the man limps pasts him and towards the mirror in the flat's hallway.
Positioning himself in front of it he sucks the jam off his tie as he takes his black suit jacket and puts it onto his shoulder. He peers at the stranger in front of him. Deep, sleep deprived green eyes, unshaven five o'clock shadow, unwashed and unkempt black hair. Even the man can tell he looks like a wreck as he straightens his grey shirt and steps under the police line and into the hot living room crime scene.
A single chair with signs of wear and tear sits in the centre of the room in front of a large cinema sized screen TV. The man can only look in awe, slightly surprised that the kid could afford such a thing whereas he only owns a ten inch.
An assortment of models from shows he has never seen litter the shelves alongside posters of calendar girls oddly angled on the walls.
"Hellooo Miss February!" a familiar voice says behind the man.
"Hello Alex" the man replies as he turns to face the new arrival.
The young man in his twenties is also wearing a black suit which covers his white shirt and green tie. His messy brown hair and blue eyes gleam with excitement as he inspects the room.
"So... how you doing Don?" Alex asks with a hint of mischief in his voice.
"That's sir to you" Don replies with a serious face.
"Whatever... by the way, you have some jam on you"
"Still? Damn it..."
"Relax, you don't need to apologise to your partner."
"Partner or not, I need to still set an example for the team" Don mutters as he inspects the chair. No blood or signs of a fight can be seen on it. "So... how did the paperboy die?"
"No clue! A neighbour hadn't heard from him in three days. When they went to check on him he was found dead. No stabs, bullet wounds or bludgeons... Nothing exciting at all."
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