Friday, 18 September 2015
Story #24 - A drunk night (Final part)
It was high time we finished this mystery.
James was about to make a joke, but I wanted none of that shit. I should've heard it.
When we reached my place, about twenty-thirty people were outside, including some policemen.
I went on the outskirts of the bunch, trying to make my way in. Impossible.
James pointed to a side passageway, between cars, and we decided to go through there.
Although we were still off from my building, I managed to glance at the whole commotion. Somebody was dead.
Blood was sprayed around, like some graffiti artist decided to not give a damn about his usual art and make it contemporary. The body was covered. A few policemen were taking notes, and one of them was on his car's receiver, probably asking for the whereabouts of the ambulance.
I was staring at the place, in utter shock, when James pulled me away, towards my building.
We somehow managed to get in, but that was about it.
More policemen were inside, some even taking pictures. One approached me.
"There has been a murder. I'm afraid civilians are not allowed in."
"But I live here."
"I'm sorry, but..."
"I'm hungry, I don't have any money, I need a shower. I can't just be kicked out of my place. The murder has nothing to do with me or my flat."
"I understand that. However, we don't need anybody tampering with the evidence."
"What if you give us some gloves, and something for our feet?"
"You watched movies, didn't you?"
"Let me see what I can do."
That went well, I suppose.
I've been waiting for a minute or two, in silence, James as well, just looking at the various uniforms moving about, like a wave that doesn't know if it should come or go. I'm quitting drinking. I know that every person who said that has done it. Then they went back a month or so later. Because whenever you tell yourself no more, you end up going back for more, sooner or later. Never never stays never.
Oh, the copper is coming back, with some gloves in hand.
"Okay, I managed to find you and your friend something. Please be gentle."
"We will. Thank you."
And off we went.
Tightly walking between the suits, making sure I wouldn't be bothering them made me consider working as a high-wire act. Until I saw that my door was open. And every jacket, collar, and tie was coming in and out of it.
"Excuse me," I say, approaching one of them. "Has the murder happened in that flat?"
"Yes and no. The person fell from that flat."
"A woman with black hair?"
"Did you know her?"
"Can't say that I did. She was in my bed this morning. I don't know how she got there."
And the winner for the worst timed sincerity moment goes to me. It's like they wanna clap, but they're standing still instead.
I have no idea what's gonna happen next, I'll close my eyes instead.