Zeds

'Detective Stan'

The dreamer was watching TV, yet immersed in fiction with control over some characters.

Detective Sebastian Stan began to narrate his own story.

"I woke up to colorful but blinding lights in my room. They were from the TV, where the news channel was on. I think I never turned it off in the first place. My first thought of the day was just as any other: coffee. Luckily, I was prepared.

I'd left a now cold cup of black coffee next to my bed, but since I didn't want to get up yet... I drank it almost ice cold. Hey, I needed the energy.

Gulp, gulp, gulp. Done.

I stood up to get dressed, only to find out I fell asleep with yesterday's clothes on. Why bother? I ruffled my hair, washed my face a bit, and went to work downtown. As I parked my motorcycle in front of the precinct, I had a weird feeling that something changed.

As I walked past them, I could feel their judgy eyes staring at me: my jealous coworkers, as usual. It's not my fault that they don't look good in a leather jacket like I do.

-Stan, come over here. -Said the chief commissioner.

I rolled my eyes and went inside his office. What did he want now?".

Time reverses itself to the same morning, but know on a London bus in which we focus on a chubby lad, in his late 40s, with round glasses and a newspaper. We observe an overlapped image as we hear a written letter being narrated by the same man.

'Dear Detective Stan:

I fear someone is after me. I don't know why or how, but I have the feeling they're trying to kill me. All I know is that it'll be at the 3 p.m. bus. I just know it. He told me.

Please. I need your help'.

Back at the precinct, Sebastian receives a letter from the chief, and continues his story.

"The chief gave me a frown (probably for being late) and then gave me an envelope. We were both standing.

-What's this?

-It came in for you earlier this morning. We checked it first, but there was nothing on it.

-You mean more people read this? -I said irritated.

-Don't.

I rolled my eyes as I began reading.

-Why do they want me?

-I don't know why it's so surprising, you're a famous detective now. People know you, they want your help. Well, wanted, anyway.

-What?

-This came in pretty early. And now...

The chief dropped a case file on his desk. I opened it and saw a dead fat man layed on a bus floor. No blood, no murder weapon, nada.

-We think it might be the same guy from your letter.

-How do you know he didn't have a heart attack? And it wasn't at 3 p.m.

-It's past noon already, but you're right. Still, he's the only one that has died today on a bus. Maybe look into it.

-I'll see what I can find.

I was heading outside when he put a hand on my shoulder.

-Nah-ah. I'm putting you with someone this time.

I frowned and looked at his hand. How dared he?

-I can deal with this on my own.

-Not this time. Freaky letter comes in before the murder? No. You might be in danger.

He sat down on his stupid squeaky chair.

-C'mon chief, you know I fly solo. I don't do partners.

-You do know. Come in, Santiago.

A girl. Of all partners, a girl. Light brown skin, black freezy curls, tightly tuck-in baby blue shirt with a navy blazer. A Miss Goody-two shoes.

-Stan, meet Detective Santiago. You'll be working the case together, so be nice.

-Nice to meet you, detective Stan. -She reached to formally shake my hand, but I didn't.

Instead, I turned to see the chief and ignored her.

-Is this because I'm always late?

-It's because you need two sets of eyes on this one, Stan. And besides, you could use the responsibility, for once.

I was offended.

-Hey, I can BE responsible. But you know that I always solve the case. -I just wanted to leave.- Oh, and by the way, how do we not know that it was a girl asking for my help on the letter, huh? It's not 3 p.m. yet.

-If I may... -She spoke. The chief nodded at her.- The writing clearly indicates that it was a male in his 40s. The vocabulary used is consistent with an older person, and the criptic message could only be written by a man. A woman would've written the name of the killer, the situation, and would've clearly avoided riding on buses even if it wasn't 3 p.m. So yes, it's very possible that this is our guy.

Dead serious, she looked at me as if I was nothing compared to her. Annoying.

-Ok, ok, then why did he began the letter saying "Dear"? -I had her.

-It's London. Everyone says "dear".

I didn't have her. I wanted to scream at her, growl at her, and just... argh! The chief looked at me, proud of his "smart" decision. I rolled my eyes again.

-Fine, you can come with me. But stay out of my way.

I stormed out of there as she followed me".

Time fast-forwards again to the bus crime scene. Detective Stan and Santiago are inside it, and scenes overlap once again with Sebastian sitting where the man sat. He was 'getting inside his head'.

"I was thinking. The man was peacefully sitting here, reading the newspaper, and then...

-Was that cleared from Evidence? -My annoying partner spoke.

-Yes, it was. Now let me work.

I closed my eyes again. I kept thinking: if I know that someone is trying to kill me on a bus, why get on one? And why 3 p.m.?

-Stan, have you figured out why the man thought it would be at 3 p.m.?

She read my mind.

-No, I'm still figuring it out. Have you? -I replied.

Aggressively.

Detective Santiago crossed her arms at me with an arrogant eyebrow lift.

-You know, if you just gave me a chance, you might see that I'm actually useful to you on this case.

-Ok, then.

-What?

-Prove it. -I stood up.- Tell me why at 3 p.m.

She made a dramatic pause as I crossed my arms.

-I have a theory.

-Yeees? -I interrumpted. 

I could tell that it bothered her, which honestly made me want to do it even more. She took a deep breath and continued. 

-Well, the murder wasn't at 3p.m., but he was on a bus. Maybe he couldn't avoid being on it because he had somewhere of vital importance to go to. And... wait. -She showed me a picture of the letter.- If you think about it, why would he write 'the 3 p.m. bus' instead of 'a bus at 3 p.m.'?

-Wording comes different. People ARE different, Santiago.

-I know, but, what if he actually meant a specific bus, and not the time?

I was perplexed, and unconsciously gasped. I also came to a conclusion.

-He meant at THE 3 p.m. bus, not the time.

-Exactly. We have to find out where does this bus go at 3 p.m., and why is it so special. I gotta say, you're smarter than you look, Stan.

-So do you, apparently."

The dreamer then turned off the T.V. and left the story.