a cold summer

Chapter Five ~ Detective Brown Investigates

I sat in the library with some paper and a pile of books sitting on the desk next to me and sighed. I just wasn't in the mood to write an essay about ocean currents. Today had been an absolute nightmare. Pizza and netflix sounded like a good idea, but I had already eaten my body weight in sausage rolls and other unhealthy treats at the picnic earlier today.

When Jesse and Isa were still alive.

I tried to take my mind off them by thinking of something to do. Out of desperation, I googled what to do when you're feeling bored and sad.

The first one was to eat chocolate. Already done that. Didn't really help.
The second one was to talk to your friends. Except I don't have any friends now. That stung.
The third was creative writing to explore your feelings.

That seemed doable. Considering I had had a somewhat strange experience today at the police office, I could probably write a detective story. About some old, crusty police officer. That should be fun.

A single window lit the dusty room at the end of the corridor. A broken chair lay in three splintered pieces underneath the desk which was slowly sinking into the floor under the weight of the many files and memos strewn across it. An ancient computer, still on from last night, was dangling precariously over the edge of the desk. The floor had a clear inch of dust with one area cleared by the door as it swung open and closed at least once a day. Opposite the desk was a small, oak door with a rather large hole in the middle of it, covered up by four pieces of duct tape. The tape had been there since 1987 and was peeling away sneakily from the hole. The office was about as organised as a pigsty although Detective Brown insisted that it was just perfect, despite many protests from the neighbours.

That definitely summed up Detective Xara's office. I wasn't sure where 1987 had come from but it sounded creepy and seemingly random, which perfectly reflected this situation. Detective Brown was the most generic name I could come up with.

As the door creeped open, Detective Brown sauntered into the office and sat on a purple plastic chair which hadn't yet collapsed. His large nose, thick eyebrows and greasy hair made him resemble an overgrown bird of prey. Despite his tireless efforts to keep his suit clean, it was always covered in mud, dirt and leftovers from his last meal. Detective Brown was described by many as a genius who was an idiot. His reputation for solving murders throughout the country had made him extremely well known. Disorganisation, tardiness and social awkwardness had also earned him a reputation for being the oldest, rudest and weirdest detective in the country. He didn't like talking to people. He viewed people as pigeons. They were annoying, always demanding attention (and food), and didn't really serve any purpose in society.

Detective Brown was modelled off the weird reception lady from the front desk. I just hoped that Xara was as good as solving murders as he was.

Suddenly, an ear splitting shriek slowly made its way towards Detective Brown. It was actually just the phone ringing but Detective Brown's hearing was slowly deteriorating which caused every sound he heard to be unpleasant and unbearable to listen to. He ignored the phone. He was too busy doing nothing to answer a call today. The phone stopped ringing. Detective Brown then decided to have a nap as he has failed to have enough sleep last night. Just as he had laid his head on the desk, the phone ran again. Detective Brown sat up in surprise and fell backwards off his chair. He reached up for the phone but missed and grabbed his computer mouse instead which caused his computer to slip off the desk and smash. He made a mental note to invest in a new computer. Eventually, Detective Brown reached up again and found the phone. He quickly pulled it off the receiver, just to stop the noise so that he could go back to having a nap.

As I wrote the next paragraph, I soon realised that Detective Brown and I had a lot in common.

However, he could hear the voice talking manically on the other end of the phone, which meant that there must have been a murder. Detective Brown decided to answer the phone; not because he wanted to end the noise but so that he could take the case and give him something productive to do today. "Yes?" he muttered dimly. The voice on the end of the phone was talking very quickly, far too quickly. It sounded more like a robot than a human. Detective Brown tried his best to wring some meaning from the phone call, but he couldn't understand a word it was saying. When the voice on the end of the phone finally stopped, Detective Brown spoke. "I think I understand," he began. "But just in case, tell me the whole thing again. I wasn't listening." The voice began again, a little slower. Detective Brown smiled an unhappy smile. "Sure, I'll be right over," he sighed. Murder was his speciality after all.

He dropped the phone back onto the receiver and picked his chair back off from the floor. He then sat back on the chair and reached for his coat, which was still on the floor. At that moment, the chair which he had been residing on collapsed and threw Detective Brown onto the floor for a second time. He rolled towards the desk, grabbing a grubby piece of paper and an orange fountain pen as he passed. He then picked himself up and waddled towards the door and out of the building.

I've never actually seen an orange fountain pen before but I'm sure they exist. Somewhere...

The weather outside was formidable; it wasn't raining, and then sun was beating down upon the detective. As he sauntered down the street, he noticed that the supermarket wasn't open yet. This was strange as the man who owned the shop was almost always open at this time. It was also unfortunate because this shop just happened to make the most delicious sausage rolls and Detective Brown was really in the mood for one.

I only added that last part because I was hungry.

He quickened his pace and arrived at the forest. The trees stood eerily tall, creating large, dark shadows which made the forest seem much darker than it really was. Then the detective saw him. A man aged around 30 years. He immediately recognised him as the supermarket owner. He was wearing his uniform for work and an expression of pure terror. Yellow police tape surrounded his body as officers investigated the scene of the crime. Detective Brown didn't look at anyone; he went straight to the victim's corpse and inspected it. He began to run a hand over the body but stopped before he could properly inspect it. The killer obviously hadn't had much experience with murder as Detective Brown noticed the clue that gave away the identity of the killer at once. "Hey you!" Detective Brown hollered at the nearest police officer. "I need to use your phone."

I wished Xara was as good as this guy. That she could have inspected the body and found the identity of the murderer almost instantaneously. But I knew that wasn't realistic. The crime scene resembled the dark forest near where they were killed. It gave me chills just to think about it.

This was actually quite fun! Somehow, it worked. I felt marginally better. As I began to write the next paragraph, my phone rang. It was Stella.

"Hi Stella," I said into the phone.
"Hey Rain, we've found something interesting," she replied. "How quickly can you get over here?"

I shoved my phone in my pocket and put the paper which I had written my story on in my folder, before running over to the police station.