Witchcraft and nasty little murders

Chapter Twelve Triskelion

Ophelia had no desire to look into the detective's cold blue eyes, but she couldn't resist the temptation. Outside the hospital, he was heading straight for her and didn't look happy at all.

"Good morning!" she greeted him, to which he only replied with a grunt as he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray at the hospital entrance. "I thought you'd come to work in a better mood this morning, after the night you'd had."

"Why? What do you know about my night?" he stopped on the stairs, staring inquiringly at Ophelia, who had managed to slip up at the start. At this point, she could have saved what was salvageable, but she always liked to say what she meant.

"Nothing, except that she was blonde, about 5.7 feet tall, called Monique with a tramp stamp on her bottom..."

"Ah, so you were a peeping Tom," he grinned, his eyes gleaming as if in satisfaction for the two weeks he'd suffered.

"Not my habit. Like you, I had no choice."

"And did you like the show?" he grinned. Ophelia just rolled her eyes, sighed and said:

"A little," she confessed honestly, "I'm sorry for not letting you sleep for so many weeks, now I know how it feels. But in my defense, when I was in Canada, I thought the distance would help..."

"Well, it didn't," the detective entered the building after letting Lia pass in front of him.

"But tell me, why are you being grumpier than usual?"

"I started this morning with the Chief of Police," he replied tersely.

"So far, the only reason they've tolerated my transgressions is because I've got a good record. Well, that cycle is broken now."

"What? But you are doing everything you can to catch the killer!"

"Yeah, and that's where you come in; you're supposed to be my magical sidekick, but we're still not getting anywhere. Instead, I beat up a couple of cops, then I was beaten up, I got a free hand in the investigation, you got hurt, and we were in the dark the whole time. We broke a few rules... and more importantly, Detective Parker did, because of me."

"You're gonna be fired?"

"I'm afraid so," he shrugged, "unless I quit first."

"Why would you do that?" Lia frowned, puzzled.

"Because my colleagues have already noticed that I get special treatment and I'm not a team player."

"But when the killer is found, your boss will parade in glory. That is so disgusting!"

"That's the way the world works," he shrugged. "The worker works; the boss takes the credit. So what?"

"So what! Leave it to me," she huffed, nearing Kendra Smith's basement door.

"Forget what I said!"

"Like you said, money talks, the rest is bullshit. I have powerful friends who might be able to protect your ass if that's what you really want."

"Why? What else do you think would move me?"

"I could see you as a private investigator," she shrugged, "and then you wouldn't have to listen to assholes telling you what to do."

"Yeah, I could just go around chasing unfaithful husbands and wives for money."

"That's a start," they entered Kendra's office one after the other, finishing the conversation.

The pathologist was sitting behind her computer when she saw the newcomers, stood up and greeted them readily.

"Good morning, Detective," she shook his hand and turned to Lia, "Miss Goodwin!"