The Libran Investigator (part I)
Skipping this chapter will not affect the rest of the story.
I mean... Why should it? It's just my chapter! Just another page of my journal. Just another series of events in my life.
I'm not the type to martyrize myself for things that happened to me. My motto is to think positive. But what happened was like a shot in the leg. I feel so powerless... I hate it when I have to just watch things fall around me and not being able to do anything about it. It's so frustrating.
And that's how I feel today as I write this. I feel small, a girl with a lot of problems in a world where everyone has a big world of problems. And because of that nobody pays attention to anybody and nothing matters but their own world. I feel like this story is just another one of countless stories, even if for me it was brutal. Brutal and revolting.
I got the call this morning. Actually, I woke up with the call. It was 6:30.
"Mmhello?" I asked in a muffled sleeping voice, still tapping on my cell to find the sound output.
"Megan Mourne from the Daily Inquirer?"
"It's me..."
The voice on the other side of the line uttered the words complacently and formally, as if taking care not to leave me in a very shaken state, but it did not help. I heard the first part and then my mind wandered off.
Jim Sanford was dead. He had been brutally murdered. In the middle of the night. In the middle of the street. In the middle of the park.
And it was all so sudden. One moment I was at the Blue Barry's drinking with Beth and him, we even ordered that big lamb sandwich that came with an endless amount of fries, which we left more than half on the table... And now he was dead.
I don't remember exactly what I did after that. I vaguely remember the scenes: I looked at myself at the mirror with that staring expression, staring at my toothbrush and the toothbrush staring back at me, the foam running down and my mouth burning.
I remember forgetting my bus card and coming back to pick it up, and when I came back I remembered that I also forgot toi lock the door to the living room.
I remember sitting in the room and staring at the wall for a moment.
And when I realized, I was at the scene. In the middle of the park. There was an embolishment of people around what looked - and was - like a body, lying on the half wire, facing the side of the street.
Cops tried to put order in, but the curiosity was impossible. People had vomited on the floor. Everything was disgusting. But I didn't even notice the smell... I didn't even notice the horror. I didn't even notice how the bones in his back were showing, that they had gone through the muscles of the trapezium. All I saw was his face. Jim's.
A lepid, tenacious face. A mixture of his good humor and hard work were drawn in his face. All his jokes and puns that were done in the worst possible time, all his perseverance at those times when they wanted to take him out of his job. His glasses were still there. Slightly dropped. It made me want to fix them. It was probably me, but he seemed to be sketching a smile. He seemed to start sketching it as soon as he saw me.
But he didn't see me. He didn't smile. He wasn't there anymore. And that was the last time I would see him.
Jim Sanford was a DEA investigator. You know? The drug control department. The police lost an important piece that day.
After that it started raining. It rained hard. Amidst the noise of the water punishing us I somehow managed to hear my cell phone ringing. It was Beth with four missed calls. She'd probably just been tipped off.
I held the phone vaguely and watched the connection be lost. Without reaction.
"DEA investigator found dead in the middle of park" Sounds like a cover...
I shook my head negatively. How was I thinking about work at a time like this?
Would someone from the Inquirer do such a thing that day? They should decree a day of mourning. At least that. No... It was probably just me there who knew Jim. The rest of you would just do a very violent cover story and still come up with a vulgar joke in the title.
I definitely wasn't in the mood for it... But I knew I needed it. I had to get in charge of it. I couldn't rest if someone else took care of it in my place. I decided to show up at the Inquirer and force Larry to leave me in charge of the story. And then I would ask Beth for help. We'd do it together.
I tried calling Beth again, but there was no signal, so I gave up. I looked around and saw the bus. I got on it and waited for it to arrive at the Daily Inquirer.
You need to understand my mind was really flying that day. The bus I took wasn't even the one that went to the journal. I was in Meadow Park at the crime scene and I just took the first one that passed by
Even the bus I got wrong.
It took me over an hour to get it right and show up for duty. I was disheveled and soaked.
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" Megan..."
"Don't start it! I'm going to work today!" I knew exactly what Harrison and the rest of the staff were gonna tell me.
"Where's Larry?" I asked before he said anything else about it.
"He's in his room... I tried calling you. Where were you?" Harrison seemed overly concerned.
I stopped by the workroom where Harrison and Mrs. Ford were working and went straight to Larry's room. He was in the back. It was protected with glass so we wouldn't hear anything there that he wanted to hide from us.
Once inside he was hanging from the phone, having a conversation with that thick mug of coffee in his hand as usual. You could see his half-headed face through the window glass. He saw me and made a funny face. But he kept on the phone.
I knocked at the door, took a deep breath and went in.
"Wait a minute, Megan's here" he said to the phone, putting it on the table, "hi, Megan. I thought you weren't coming today... God, you look awful. I thought you'd insist on working because that's the way you are, but I'm sorry... Sanford's story was given to Peter first thing in the morning. He was here... And let's face it... You know you're not the best person to..."
"Larry! I... I need to do this" I said, leaning over the table. "If it's not to write about Jim's... I'm going back home. Frankly... Look at me. I just want to go home. But I can't..."
Larry stared at me with his oval poker face as his little grey eyes blinked one after the other behind his round glasses. You could never tell what he was thinking. Was he considering my feelings? Was he trying to kick me from there and that was it? Was he trying to give me another totally disconnected job the day Jim dies? I couldn't tell.
I sweated in anticipation at that moment of silence while he pondered, and after brief suspense he let go:
"Right, Megan... I'm gonna call Peter."
That day was being awful, but still my face opened in a smile at that little moment.
"Thanks, Larry. You're the best!" I went around the table and gave him a hug.
"Hey!" Larry protested almost knocking over his thick mug of coffee, "But y'see... You're gonna have to do this right! No letting emotion get to... Ah! Forget it."
"Don't worry, Larry. I'll make it the best news paragraph of Monday."
"Today is Tuesday, megan."
Larry, you fool. Who do you think I am to let my emotions get in the way of my work?
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The first thing I did was trying to contact Beth again. This time she answered her cell. Things were getting better.
"Meg? Where are you? Been calling you all morning..."
"Hello? Beth? Did you go to the department today?" Beth was Jim's partner. The three of us knew each other. Me, her and Jim. Jim used to live at the Mapleleaf Residential, along with us. I mean... Not together, but in the same residential. We were neighbors. Then Jim got a job at the DEA and moved.
"Heck I did. I was there until just now! It's chaos, as you'd expect. Do you believe it? They're trying to pass the case on to the SAD."
"What!? How!?"
"You see... Oh the connection is sucking bad... I'll meet you in front of the Maple. We'll go to Meadow."
"The park!?"
"Hello...?"
The call dropped.
I think she meant we were going to the scene. I took the first bus to Mapleleaf. This time I didn't miss the bus, which meant that the good energies were coming back to illuminate my life.
You know... As a Libran I'm a lucky person. The energies of luck light up the lives of Librans. Well... That morning was an exception.
Arriving in the hallway of my apartment, Beth was outside, and all agitated. The hallway was narrow and high. Its color was like you'd expect from a place called Mapleleaf. Its entire interior seemed to have been recently painted and decorated in shades ranging from brown to red. Although the apartments there were well decorated, they were not exactly large.
"Meg! Meg!" Beth ran in short steps towards me, "how are you?"
Beth gave me a long hug.
"I'm fine... As far as possible."
"Everything's so horrible, isn't it? Oh, Meg..."
Beth was clearly disturbed with the whole situation. I didn't even dare tell her the first thing I did that morning was go see Jim's body... And I had no reason to. No one asked me to recognize the body, no one I knew was there. I was just a curious one among many. After I heard that call I hung up without realizing it and just wandered off in search of his dead body. I just went, saw and came back. That must be why the negative energies came.
"Listen..." I said as I slowly released her, "what did you say on the phone about the SAD taking over?"
"Come in..." She invited me, pointing to the door of her apartment, which was right next to mine, "I'll tell ya."
Beth's apartment's main room was the sweetest thing. All clean and shiny, and the couch had those pillows of bugs that were categorically arranged next to each other. Unlike my apartment, which was a mess. Where did she find the time to leave it all ordered like that?
I sat on the sofa.
"Wanna drink any?"
"Water, please."
"Since it was a murder I figured the homicide department would end up taking the case... Which would be nice. Hank works there. He wouldn't hesitate to let us help. But he wouldn't. The case is special."
Beth handed me the cup of water.
"What do you mean 'special?' "
"It has to do with the way Jim... You know... The way it happened... Do you remember that news from last week? That accountant?"
" Gerald McMiller?"
"Yeah! That one."
"Wow... I hadn't noticed! I hadn't even connected the suits... He died just the same way, right? I mean..."
Beth got grestfallen. It was hard to comment on Jim's death like that, you know... in a casual way... It was still stuck in our throats. And mind you she hadn't even seen him yet.
I certainly didn't wanna get back there. But I also didn't wanna tell her I was a fool and went out half past six in the morning to see the body by myself.
"But you mean there's a serial killer on the loose? What do you know about these crimes? What does the SAD know?"
"That's what I want to find out! We're talking about Jim! He's part of the team. I'm not just gonna watch. I wanna know exactly what's going on. They can't just transfer the case this way, claiming it's a special case. Who do they think they are? THE FBI?"
But unfortunately the SAD was that way. I know it because I've been in charge of cases that were considered 'special' in the paper. They simply refuse to give any relevant information to journalists. Even if it is the Inquirer.
They had an office there in Sproustown. Near the center. Near Meadow Park. One could walk there. I was even thinking of stopping by after I went with Beth to see Jim... Even if I already had an idea of what was gonna happen if I went...
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