Suicide. That unwanted fly buzzed around the ears of station. That unwanted fly injected fear and urgency into the senior staff’s veins. Suicide. Another victim failed. Another family to inform.

Slipping from the strange undercurrent that had a hold of the station, you slithered into the driver’s seat of your work car. Drumming your fingers impatiently on the already smooth polished leather wheel, “Come on, Lauren!” You weren’t known for your patience when it came to an urgent call. At last, you saw a figure silhouetted against a backdrop of warm light, before the resounding clang of the door snapped shut.

“Sorry, I did bring you a doughnut. Your favourite- raspberry jam, with just a sprinkle of sugar- I swiped it from under the Super’s nose!” Detective Lauren Order babbled on, still clutching the sweet treat delicately in a paper napkin pincer.

Catching her mischievous grin, you shook your head, “Well you’ll have to feed me the stolen goods if we are going to make it on scene before the men!” Comically opening and closing your mouth as you turned out of the carpark. Hitting the blue lights, you snapped your teeth impatiently. Before being promptly shut up by soft pastry that was shoved in your face.

Light conversation filled the air, once you licked your lips clean of fine powdery snow. When suddenly you clutched your head with the hand that strayed from the wheel. “You alright, Rawkings?” Concern pulled her delicately shaped eyebrows together, tendrils of worry curled around her orbs of steel.

“We aren’t going to a suicide.” You ground out through gritted teeth. There was nothing more to say, except hope that the twenty decades of work together was able to breach the cryptic defence.

Lauren’s lips pursed in thought and, “Ohhh,” whistled out in hurried enlightenment, “Your feelings haven’t been wrong yet, Lottie, but I don’t know whether I hope you’re wrong or right this time.”

“Trust me, that’s all I ask.” Your eyes return to the deserted road, “The Sarge and DC are already there with the local patrol…Shame.” Lauren desperately wanted to alleviate the tension that clamped slender fingers to the steering wheel, yet she had no words.

Nibbling on her cherry painted lips, she did the only thing that was deemed safe in a moving vehicle. Reaching out a tentative hand, pulled in by a gravitational force the elegant appendage found a perfect perch on the curved planes on Lottie’s knee. Lauren felt the muscles tense under her touch, but quickly relaxed. The tense fibres sent out a peristaltic wave, one of comfort and a sense that everything will work out, and you let a small smile tickle the corners of your eyes.

Finding a quiet space amongst the madness you applied the brakes, which let out a soft sigh of compliance. Killing the engine, you stole a glance your colleague, one that would be lost to the hands of time. “Ready?” A question that never should be asked, yet there was no avoiding it. In perfect practiced synchronicity the two detectives exited the vehicle.

Ghostly figures rushed and pummelled the figures, painted onto the city caught in the licking tongue of the dying sun, with relentless fury. A well-oiled ant colony worked tirelessly amongst the hectic display of flashing blue and red, each had a task, and each knew how to complete that task. A line of thin tape flapped feebly fighting to break free of the lamppost to which it had been bound.

At the centre of all the chaos was a man.

A dead man.

Remarkably, there was no crowd. Unusual. People seemed to be drawn to crime scenes like bees to a honeypot.

“Sargent Nix!” Barked Detective Order, “How is he still in the police force?” She muttered lowly, smirking as she observed the quaking of your smart black coat. You made yourself scarce not wanting to get caught up in the verbal shoot out.

You wandered over to the momentarily forgotten corpse, silently studying the way the once sculpted muscles now lay wasted. His pride crumpled on the hard tarmac, drowned in a slowly spreading metallic pool of burgundy, that became more coagulated with each snaking turn. Twisted at an awkward angle, his left arm trapped under his body, whilst his right arm seemed to have been flung out… reaching for something.

Keen caramel eyes followed the invisible line that had been drawn, at the end a small black pistol. To the untrained eye the sidearm would appear to have been dropped by the deceased man.

His face seemed in conflict with his well-maintained physique an excess of skin sagged, like it had given up, into ghastly rolls. A strange sickly pasty shade painted by an amateur hand over a faded flush. Eyes of dull wood bulged in alarm… or perhaps horror at what was to come.

Crimson blooms embellished the obsidian wool of a beloved jumper, tainting the innocent façade of a well-respected businessman.

“It seems as though the Detective has located the body,” An obnoxious laugh grated against the sensitive hairs in your ears.

Coldly, you replied, “Sargent. If you have nothing better to say, get on with your job.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Scolded he scuttled away, to start placing miniature pyramids at sights of interest. Crouching down you listened to the dead man, while ensuring that you didn’t contaminate the scene. This was no way to die.

Robotically, you rose and with staccato steps moved away from the main hubbub. The distance increased, until you froze. Spiders tapped their way blindly across your spine, leaving icy silk behind in a painful wake. There was someone out there. Someone who knew the chilling truth. Rotating your head, you locked onto a tourmaline slash in weakening inferno… there. Restarting in haste your work boots started to propel you forward, desperate to reach the suspect before they blended into the umbra.

You started violently as you felt a hand catch your arm, “Hey, where you going?” The wave of adrenaline subsided; you knew that it wouldn’t be gone for long.

“I’m going over there. We are being watched. The gun…it’s fake. Over there. A female… she has hair the colour of ginger biscuits. She has the real gun- “Your words march out in a disorderly line; your arm raises limply.

Taking a moment to locate the gapping mouth tucked just behind the first pillar, Detective Lauren Order inhaled sharply, “Ma’am, we are not going on any wild goose-chases, not without suitable evidence!” Hurt broke the surface, bubbling up from a hidden volcano waiting to erupt, your friend never spoke to you sharply- so why now? “How about we clock off here, let the others gather the evidence and send the body to the morgue? Then we can follow up your hunch by ‘interviewing the locals’.” Her low rumble of words managed to divert an ugly loss of control.

Nodding once, “I’ll wait in the car,” Bumping into her shoulder as you made your way back to your car, you took a moment to appreciate how unjudgmental and understanding Lauren was.

Unlocking the doors you let a secret slip into the evening air, “This is only the beginning.”