Monday, June 12th 2017
Do you know what I hate? Ties. Yeah that's right, those stupid things you wrap around your neck to try and convince other people you have your life together. If you could tie a Windsor knot under the collar of even the filthiest low life scum he would immediately seem like a well-educated businessman. I've always been in ties, at school they were used to make us look smarter, then when I graduated and started working a local beat it was used to create a façade of authority. I miss those days. Now as I stand in what is quite possibly the blandest room a bachelor has ever owned, I begin to wonder. Not about anything, but rather all the odd questions a man my age seems to contemplate while staring at himself. As I gaze into my own brown eyes in the mirror ahead my mind wanders to work. God, when did I get so dull. Now don't get me wrong, working for the police can be fun (I mean, who doesn't like a triple homicide in the morning) but when your partner and best friend is off mourning her husband's death it can make a day seem long…very long.
Lacing up my shoes and leaving my flat I start down the stairs (no matter how new the block is, the stairs always smell like piss) before running across the road to get to my bus stop. The number 94; it's about as run down and unreliable as Liz's late husband. Don't quote me on this but in my humble opinion, Simon Frasier was an ass hole. Sure, he was good looking, smart and romantic. In fact, he could spurt all the blarney in the world just to get a girl into his bed; which is exactly what he did. Lizzy couldn't see it of course, she was to blind in love. No matter how good her detecting skills in the field are she just can't seem to apply them at home. Then again, I was never sure if she didn't know or just didn't want to believe it.
The bus pulls up and the doors slowly open, a gaggle of school children barge past me ready to get on board, I can't help but grimace at the gum and rubbish they tread to the ground. Stepping onto the bus I hand the driver a tenner, correct change my ass. He can count it out on his stomach if he can't find a calculator, fat git. As he scowls at me I walk off, semi aware of the phone resting next to the wheel. Not like I can do anything about it. It's not in his hand and he's not driving, so according to the law there's no problem. Reaching up to grab the over hanger I remind myself I need to pick up a small bottle of hand sanitizer…very soon.
The swaying of the bus leads my brain away and back into the world inside my head, where I can't help but think back to Lizzy and how glad I am that she hasn't been in for most of this case; serial killers always get her down and she doesn't need that right now. Lizzy always connects with the victims, seeing them as the people they were alive as opposed to the corpse we must analyse. It's a difference of opinion really; she thinks by getting to know the person a case will be easier. Where I believe that only the cold hard facts can give you the answer – no matter how difficult it is. Emotions just seem to get in the way and cloud your judgement but hey, I could be wrong. Who knows - maybe our differing investigation ideas are the reason we work so well together. All I know is that after Simons death she didn't need to see a new body every day. Not only would it have gotten her down, but it would have frustrated her. 10 different bodies, and only one clue? An annoyance, but still slightly less annoying than the media.
In my musings I am acutely aware of the Star Wars theme emanating from the front of the bus, I bet you it's the driver. He looked like the unoriginal type. Looking out the windows I flex my fingers as my laptop bag grows slightly uncomfortable, while noticing my stomach rumbling. A sandwich starts seeming like a pretty good idea. Rifling around in my bag I look up and sigh. I left the house so fast I forgot to pick up food. Great, now I'll have to look like one of those business twats with their little 'Pret' bags that I see on my commute every single fucking day!
A stupid kid at the front of the bus screams. Then I hear the loud thud of something hitting metal. The bus slams to a halt and it's all happening so fast but it has time to peak my interest. That stupid kid keeps screaming and I immediately know that idiot driver has done something wrong. The whole front of the bus is a stampede of kids pushing to get off and running away. Striding forwards I begin to push through them to see what he's hit. The tidal wave of children throws me off the vehicle and as I whirl my body around to face the scene, my indifference joins me on a 180 upon seeing the figure on the ground. Running to the all too familiar girl I pull out my badge "Everyone back the fuck up". A thick cow at the front doesn't listen. I pull her away from the body, praying that it isn't who I think. "I said back up!" crouching down by the girl I roll her over only to realise my worst fears. Cupping grazed skin, I turn her face upwards towards me. "SOMEBODY CALL A FUCKING AMBULENCE" Her blue eyes remain unfocused as I fumble for a pulse, finding a very weak beat. "It's going to be okay Lizzy, It's going to be okay…"