Day 242 – Half Hour Hitman – Part 16

Word count: 605

It was always hectic down at the police station. Today was even more so. Not only was the Russian President in town, and hence absorbing the duties of every uniformed officer in the greater London area, but it was Valentines Day. Every year was the same: arguments about who didn’t buy who what, stalkers trying their luck one too many times, girlfriends being dumped and trying suicide, boyfriends beating their girlfriends up for not making the tea or something…. Fortrose was not at all perturbed by all: in fact the silence, if ever it did fall, would make him more anxious and restless. But right now, he was not caught in a battle between a ruling Russian or a rowdy romance: he was shouting at his boss for dismissing a clear case of murder.

“I can’t believe you would do this! It’s fucking obvious what is happening!”

Maxwell, short brunette – always in a pencil skirt and matching suit jacket, glared back at him. She had the temper of a scorpion and she was in no mood to play audience to Fortrose’s pleas.

“One more word and I will have had enough. The initial pathology report states that it was likely a mugging that went wrong. You know what that area was like and judging by the shady character that you call a source, it looks like he lived beyond his time in that apartment block. Just leave it.”

“Ma’am, what about the note – the note in the hand – if that’s not evidence of some sort of goading or victory mark by the killer, I don’t know what is!”

“Fortrose, shut it. Leave it alone. I know you’ve been on this case for months now, but there’s nothing more we can do. We can’t just leap to conclusions when there’s no evidence!”

“I’ll find him. There’s more to this than meets the eye. How can a young man disappear and the only trace is his wallet, which turns up weeks after he was last seen? How come there is no evidence, no body – no one with motives, no motives on his part? He wasn’t depressed, he didn’t want to leave the country and pack his job in… he loved his family, his friends…. He had no reason to disappear. You have to give me this chance!”

Maxwell eyed him up. She usually weighed his case with her eyes. There had been times where she had been right and he had been wrong; but his hunches had always led to something, even if it just reiterated the most likely motive or cause. Maxwell and Fortrose had worked for years together: she knew him and she knew when he was risking everything on an idea.

“No, I’m sorry – not this time. I can’t let you!”

“Ma’am, with respect, you’re being a complete fucking idiot.”

“Jesus, Fortrose – there’s a woman sitting at home right now crying her eyes out because deep down she knows her boy isn’t coming through her front door again! The only way we are going to find this boy is when he comes in here in a body bag – have a little sensitivity and don’t get his poor mother’s hopes up for fucksake otherwise I really will think you are as insensitive a bastard as you like to make out to people!”

Fortrose was reeling. He could had slapped her.
“I’m going to find him.”

Fortrose knew it in his heart; nothing about this case settled right in his stomach. This boy wasn’t dead; he didn’t run away…. this boy was involved in something much, much bigger… and Fortrose was going to uncover it all.

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~ by S.G. Mark on June 5, 2012.

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