WHILE THERE WAS HOPE
‘Be a doll and file these in, love…’ said Howard
Susan, Susan Anna Hope, was Howard’s right hand woman.
Everything that went through the office, in or out, went through her…
‘I was just about to leave Howard.’ She sighed… She moved back into the chair and let her head fall back. She leaned forward like a cat, arching her body and then relaxed back into the chair.
She was partly Greek by origin. Some say an embodiment of Aphrodite — golden brown skin, athletic curves, plump breasts, long black tresses falling over till her waist and a fabulous round arse. The twinkle in her crisp hazel eyes would make the world spin off its axis; so had the world of almost every other guy at the office.
‘Not my fault that this guy decided to blow his heart out… You should have seen it. Blood, everywhere’
‘That reminds me… Pass me the ketchup would you?” she leaned to in to the side drawer and pulled out a cheese burger.
‘Be careful sweetie. Don’t want that arse to pop out…’ winked, Howard
‘Perhaps then you would stop mooning over it’ said she, leaning in for the ketchup.
‘Blood reminds you of ketchup…? Really…?’
‘Can you blame me?’ She took a bite and took the file from Howard.
‘I suppose not…’
‘What do we have here?’ she flipped through the file, ‘The guy seems kind of handsome’ she winked, ‘No ID?’
‘Nada’
‘Since when do we deal in suicides…? Last I checked this was homicide’
‘I was in the area; had a funny feeling…’
She studied Howard for a moment, then sighed, ‘I better get to it…’
‘Thanks Suzy, you’re a doll!’
‘I know…’ She smiled, opened the file and went to work, ‘How is Martha? When is she due?’
‘She’s not due for months. You really should have paid more attention in biology’
She gave him the finger.
‘Don’t get cocky!’
‘Get off of my head. I hate you!’ said she
‘And I love you. See you tomorrow sweetie…’
She smiled from the corner of her mouth. He picked up her half eaten cheese burger and walked out, down the elevator and almost out of the building. It was raining.
Howard was almost out when he ran into Chief Cooper.
John Cooper was a big round man on the verge of retirement — into his last trimester. He was the head of department — Violent Crimes, and was always referred to as The Chief — no one really knew why. It had been so, for a very long time. Sometimes, though, when not around, he was referred to as “The pig”
Chief Cooper suffered from hyperhidrosis. His whole body reeked of sweat, especially his palms. It was only a cruel irony that to the Chief, contact was the only discernible form of language available to man. He would regularly shake hands, hold shoulders, pat, embrace and on occasion hoist up, his comrades, colleagues, subordinates, and at one unfortunate dinner party, the Director himself. His waist size had grown a few inches since the last promotion, so much so, that he could no longer tuck in his shirt. It was proof that a desk job agreed with him.
His moustache was the only part of his masculinity that daunted his round firm belly and warm benign smile. It was an obsession. He and his little moustache comb, were infamous companions to FBI restrooms, where, together, they would, at-a-time, spend no less than fifteen minutes, braiding the pride of the entire east coast!
Despite of his idiosyncrasies, he was one of the sharpest agents around. The office at Washington had another nickname for him… They used to call him the sniffer. It was a shock to them that the ‘sniffer’ had chosen not to employ his keenness to the field. Why it was so, though, was beyond anyone’s reckoning. “I’ve seen my share of blood,” he used to say. Almost four decades in the department and yet no one knew what the true man behind the façade, gazing out, watching over the concrete jungle, through his deep blue eyes, thought, and knew of…
‘Where do you suppose you’re you going, Howard?’
‘Back home… What’re you doing here at this hour, Chief?’
‘Haven’t you heard? The suicide downtown… You were our man on the scene, weren’t you…?’
‘I was… It was pretty cut and dry…’
‘Cut and dry my arse! The fucking ambulance taking the body for autopsy was reported ransacked on the Manhattan Bridge. The body is missing and all the men in the van are dead — mutilated. I just received a call from dispatch. They have a couple of their men on the scene. You will run point. Report to the scene ASAP… GO!’
‘Sir!’
‘Get this sorted, Howard. We lost men tonight. Find that son of a bitch! No one gets away with shit like this. Not in my city!’ the chief took a deep breath. He tried to relax. When he continued his voice was steady again, ‘Report back to me as soon as you find something…’
‘I’m on it, Chief!’
‘Get the details from Suzy on your way to the scene. I want motherfucker behind bars’
Howard nodded, turned around and walked into the rain. Rain drops battered against his umbrella — drowning the confusion of his thoughts. He got into his car and sped through the empty roads, searching for the raving ravenous blood thirty monsters, foolish enough to murder cops.
‘What a fool’ he mumbled. He was supposed to be home by now, making Martha screech like a kitten in bed.
‘That wild cat’ he hissed under his breath, as though embarrassed at his own lust.
He rode out into the dark night that would soon give way to a new dawn — one, unlike one, he had ever seen… Tomorrow was to be a new day, the day that would change everything!