CoSurvivor
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 18, 2013
- Posts
- 1,101
What had happened over the last 24 hours was a roller-coaster of events, from being put on leave from the department (which he expected) pending investigation into the murder of his partner, the request of a few tenants in his building to look into the disappearance of a young woman Diana, who lived on the 3rd floor, and the personal side investigation he took on into Mike’s murder a lot had happened. On the surface, Mike's murder looked like a simple case of a drug addict who had a bad trip and shot a cop. But Locke sensed there was more to it. That’s when he opened the envelope he'd received that night, and after the vivid crazy dreams he looked at the symbols on the inside, and on the baggy of a new street drug called ‘White Lotus’ he knew he needed to talk to someone. Someone outside of the department. Locke knew of only one person he’d call only thing was, would ‘she’ see him?
Staring at the entrance to the History Museum he steeled himself, adjusted his tie and hat, rubbed his hand across his chin and realized he forgot to shave that morning. Not exactly the picture of professionalism he wanted to present to her the first time they’d seen each other in, what was it, a year now? She was key, she’d know a few things to further his investigation. Checking his jacket, he made sure the envelope was still with him, he quickly walked up the stairs, pulled open the door and walked to the front desk, showing his badge. “I’m here on official police business, I know where I’m going.” The front desk clerk, not questioning Locke due to his authoritative manner simply nodded and allowed him to pass. If the clerk knew who he was, or his past relationship to the current director of antiquities, he might have stopped him. It was also a risk stating he was on police business, they could check up on him and find out he was on leave, but not ‘suspended’, Locke only hoped she’d see him, at least give him an opportunity to plead his case before she kicked him out.
Walking past her office, he noticed she wasn’t there, her door was left open and walked farther down the hallway to another office, seeing a familiar face who didn’t hate him or so he thought.
“Hi Janice, is she here? I need to speak with her, it’s about a case I’m working on.”
They’d always been polite, the young 20 something assistant had been friendly and even mildly flirtatious, in a playful way. She stood up and walked toward him pointing her hand down the hallway. “I’ll take you to her.” He’d been back here before, Janice was leading him down the hallway toward one of the large warehouse studios. Locke had paid a visit while he’d watched her carefully use a fine toothbrush removing sand from a thousand-year-old chalice. Once they were through the double doors leading into the massive studio Janice pointed toward a workbench in the back. She turned, looked at him empathetic of the situation and said, “all of us read about the shooting in the paper yesterday. I’m really sorry about your partner Locke.” She patted his arm, nodded and left.
Locke made long walk to the back of the studio, a few statues were crated, and covered, an old suit of knight’s armor stood off to one side, while he could see a few other closed cases. Locke got to within 10 feet of the worktable she was at, studying a book and taking a few notes. Locke wanted to say he was sorry for how things ended, wanted to apologize for being an ass. He wanted to comment on how stunning she was, how beautiful looked today. That would sound as if he was desperate to get her back, he missed her, missed her more than he'd ever admit, but he wasn't one to reopen old wounds. He was hoping they could move forward. Instead, he addressed her professionally.
“Hello Professor. I’ve got a case I’m working on, and I was hoping you might spare a few minutes for me.”
Staring at the entrance to the History Museum he steeled himself, adjusted his tie and hat, rubbed his hand across his chin and realized he forgot to shave that morning. Not exactly the picture of professionalism he wanted to present to her the first time they’d seen each other in, what was it, a year now? She was key, she’d know a few things to further his investigation. Checking his jacket, he made sure the envelope was still with him, he quickly walked up the stairs, pulled open the door and walked to the front desk, showing his badge. “I’m here on official police business, I know where I’m going.” The front desk clerk, not questioning Locke due to his authoritative manner simply nodded and allowed him to pass. If the clerk knew who he was, or his past relationship to the current director of antiquities, he might have stopped him. It was also a risk stating he was on police business, they could check up on him and find out he was on leave, but not ‘suspended’, Locke only hoped she’d see him, at least give him an opportunity to plead his case before she kicked him out.
Walking past her office, he noticed she wasn’t there, her door was left open and walked farther down the hallway to another office, seeing a familiar face who didn’t hate him or so he thought.
“Hi Janice, is she here? I need to speak with her, it’s about a case I’m working on.”
They’d always been polite, the young 20 something assistant had been friendly and even mildly flirtatious, in a playful way. She stood up and walked toward him pointing her hand down the hallway. “I’ll take you to her.” He’d been back here before, Janice was leading him down the hallway toward one of the large warehouse studios. Locke had paid a visit while he’d watched her carefully use a fine toothbrush removing sand from a thousand-year-old chalice. Once they were through the double doors leading into the massive studio Janice pointed toward a workbench in the back. She turned, looked at him empathetic of the situation and said, “all of us read about the shooting in the paper yesterday. I’m really sorry about your partner Locke.” She patted his arm, nodded and left.
Locke made long walk to the back of the studio, a few statues were crated, and covered, an old suit of knight’s armor stood off to one side, while he could see a few other closed cases. Locke got to within 10 feet of the worktable she was at, studying a book and taking a few notes. Locke wanted to say he was sorry for how things ended, wanted to apologize for being an ass. He wanted to comment on how stunning she was, how beautiful looked today. That would sound as if he was desperate to get her back, he missed her, missed her more than he'd ever admit, but he wasn't one to reopen old wounds. He was hoping they could move forward. Instead, he addressed her professionally.
“Hello Professor. I’ve got a case I’m working on, and I was hoping you might spare a few minutes for me.”
