One Week Earlier...
Another day, another case
Another case, another drink
Another drink, another day
The shriek of metal on metal from opening curtains startled me awake, almost causing me to fall off my chair in the process. My hat slipped from my face, leaving my eyes exposed to the harsh, blinding light that burned into my brain. Pain, searing flesh as the drill descended ever deeper into my head, leaving me victim to its overpowering ache.
As my vision slowly receded back from pure pain, to seeing blurs and spots and shapes, I heard the familiar nasal voice.
"Damnit Ster!.. how many times do I have ta catch ya sleepin' in the office before ya gonna learn?"
"Gad, forsa... hmph" was about all that I could manage in response, my hands defending me from the sight-searing glare.
"S'pose you'd be wanting a cup about now?" her voice like nails on a chalk board. She walked towards the kitchen, leaving me to my head-pounding torture. I massaged my temples.
Taking my feet off my desk and bent over, and retrieved my hat, along with a box of smokes, painkillers and flask. I lit up.
Charlene came through with the coffee and preceded to rattle off the rest of the mundanities of the morning routine. Bills not paid, final notices, missed calls and messages. The ex, the bank and the bookies, all wanting to know where their money is. Blood sucking hounds.
I tipped some of the flask into the coffee, and dropping two painkiller into my hands, took them with an accompanying sip. Work had been some what scarce as of late. The trouble with the new police force was that it was putting guys like me out of business.
There were always odd jobs, shoplifters, home invasions, adulterers, but the constant grills of lonely house wives accusing their husbands of affairs was a drearily tiresome job - especially when the average bloke could barely scrape together a good enough story to tell. The cases were easy and in terms of covering the day to day expenses it was the longer cases that helped. Not just finding out where other men go, who cant keep whats in their pant, well... in their pants.
Rubbing my face and feeling the two day of growth, I took another sip and drew a smokey breath.
"... Silvia asked when your gonna call her back, poor gal, really think you outta let that sweetheart down gentle-like. So young? Just let her go and let her find a real man; quit stringing that lass along like a cat with some yarn. Y'know, come to think of it, I might take my own advice with that one..." I felt the glare through her voice, "... Oh and Chuck phoned again, something about the office repairs are gonna take longer than he originally quoted... Oh and you have an appointment with a Mrs Callaughway now, so might want to think about cleaning yourself up a little before she comes in, hon."
Charlene left the room closing the door behind him. Man! She could talk when she wanted. Like the background noise that drills at the back of the skull while the mind is still starting.
I got up and stumbled to the basin in the corner of the office, being careful not to glance at my reflection in the mirror. Cupping my hands I brought some water to my face and let the coolness of it freshen my thoughts a little. Then walked back to my desk. I buzzed through the intercom-phone.
"Mrs Callaughway?" I asked gruffly, "Don't remember having any appointments for today? ... If she is another unsatisfied house wife asking to find her cheating partner, please just tell her I'm not in." And lent back in my chair resuming my previous position, hat resting on my face.
"Well Mr Mallone." a husky, velvet voice broke the silence that filled the room. "I may be dissatisfied, but I know my husband isn't cheating." I cleared my hat from my field of vision. "He is trying to kill me"
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