The office sat wearily, even the light sank to the floor on beds of dust. Pieces of paper, once white, had turned yellow with age. Five fingers tapped the desk languidly as two eyes roved the room for some clue as to the time. A sigh fell from his chapped lips as he stood up. He didn't bother to adjust his suit as he trudged across the room to pull the clock from the wall. The batteries had died again.
He pushed his bushy chestnut hair out of his face as he headed back to his desk, dead clock in hand. Fumbling through his desk drawer, he searched for batteries, but found none. With a sigh, he wearily glanced at the frosted glass in his office door. Did he really want to talk to her? Not particularly, but he probably should anyway. After all, he paid her to be his secretary and receptionist for something, though at the moment he didn't know what it was.
He reached for the knob, and took a deep breath as he turned it. Somehow, talking to her took a lot more energy than it used to. At one time she could renew him with energy, and now she seemed to suck it right out of him. He opened the door and stepped into the front room. The secretary in question leaned over her desk, trying to sort through all the piles of paper in vain. It made him wonder why she bothered.
"Do you need something, sir?" She glanced up at him curiously, the light from the lone lamp in the ceiling reflecting of her glasses. Her eyes shone blue, starkly contrasting with all the faded golds and browns that stained the office.
At first, he didn't respond. He just stared at her, wondering how they had come to this. Maybe her age made a difference. It certainly didn't when they first met, at her interview. She had stood out from the rest, then. Maybe he shouldn't have hired her to begin with. It's not like she had the most skills or experiece....but she had a smile that made him melt. To go with it she had a voice that could make any man's head turn, or at least it seemed that way at the time. Now the mere sound of it made him want to hide under his desk.
Even with all that, he still hadn't worked up the urge to fire her. "Do you have any AAA batteries?"
"Er...sure." She seemed like she wanted to shrug off his odd request, but she still needed to work on her acting skills. Rumaging through the bottom drawer, she found a few batteries. "They might work, but I don't know. They're kind of old."
"Like everything else in this place." He muttered, then he added at vollume she could hear: "Next time keep fresh ones in stock." Hopefully he wouldn't allow her a second time. Hopefully he'd finally scrounge up the willpower to let her go.
The phone rang. He waved his hands, in hopes she would get the hint and tell the person on the phone that he was out of his office. She didn't. Picking up the phone, she chimed "Patterson Private Investigation, this is Kelsey. How may I help you?"
Patterson bit his lip, as he watched Kelsey take notes on the pad in front of her. He should have seen the red flags the first time they met, but he didn't. And now he had the chance to pay for his mistake every time they worked together. Like now, for instance.
"Oh, yes, just a moment please." She looked up at him expectantly, and he wished he could hide.
Patterson summoned up the nerve to take the phone from Kelsey's hand. He dragged it up to his ear, and cleared his throat. "Patterson speaking."
"Portland P.D. We have a case for you."
He rubbed his face tiredly as he scrounged his brain for an answer. "You'll have to give me more to go on than that. I'm not telepathic."
"Remember that gang homicide case a year ago?"
"They already convicted somebody. You're wasting my time." He started to hand the phone to his secretary so she could end the call.
"Wait!" The officer pleaded.
Sighing, Patterson brought brought the phone up to his ear. "What is it now?"
"It made the news, remember? And now, a somebody's committed a murder nearly identical to it, even when the convict's still in jail."
He shrugged his shoulders, trying to muster up the patience for this. "What's your name, Officer?"
"Peter Randall."
Patterson rubbed his forehead. "Listen, Officer Randall, that homicide happened because of a gang fight. It's probably just a copy cat killer in the same gang. Call me when you have a legitimate case for me to work on."
"Just come and check out the crime scene. It's too similar to have been done by another person. I'll even buy you some coffee."
Pinching his eyes shut, Patterson thought it over. "Alright, but it better be some good coffee."
No comments:
Post a Comment