Holding Grudges

File II

"Justice, get your god damn ass in my office, now!" Chief Walter screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the office like a thunderclap. It was as if he was experiencing the kind of pain one might feel after undergoing a severe surgery, a pain that would not easily fade away. I don't know what the terminology is for such a surgery, but to be honest, that's not my area of expertise at all.

"Oh, shit man, ha-ha, you're in trouble now. What have you done this time?" Officer Kingsley playfully teased me, as he always did with everyone, whether it was at work or even in casual settings outside of the station. His lighthearted nature made the atmosphere feel less serious, even in moments that could easily turn tense.

It felt as though he never truly left his high school days behind him and moved on with his life in any meaningful way. Officer Kingsley had just been hired onto the police force a few short months ago and had already managed to make a seemingly stunning reputation for himself among his peers. However, this reputation came with a significant caveat, as he was often described as being well, narcissistic, displaying a troubling tendency to prioritize his own image over genuine connections with those around him.

"Yeah, yeah, weren't you supposed to pick up the Chief his coffee this morning?" I snapped right back at him without any hesitation, my tone slightly teasing yet firm. We always had a playful back and forth with each other, a little ritual that kept our dynamics interesting and engaging.

Kingsley glanced quickly at his wrist to check the time on his watch, his eyes narrowing as he assessed whether he could still make it to the closest coffee shop unobserved and without drawing attention to himself, just ahead of the inevitable rush of bustling morning customers. He abruptly stood up, determined to challenge his feet to a sprint toward the key rack to grab a pair of keys for a waiting squad car. As he rushed off, I couldn't help but hover my gaze up at the clock mounted on the light blue, stain-tinted grey wall that loomed over the metal casefile cabinet, which was always ice cold to the touch. The clock's hands pointed unyieldingly to six-twenty, right on the dot. Little did Kingsley know that I had already picked everyone up a fresh coffee that very morning. I supposed he was too busy joking around with his usual wit to notice that my hands were filled with steaming coffee cups, ready to be handed out—two sugars, two cream—just the way everyone liked it.

I just had a good feeling about today, that was all. So, amidst all the chaos that has become this small department in Ridgefield, Connecticut, I really wanted to do something special for everyone. Even if it was just buying each person a two-dollar coffee, I thought it would be a nice gesture. It didn't matter to me what the ultimate amount turned out to be; in my opinion, it was the thought behind the act that counted the most. And I believe that most people see it that way too, or at least I hope they do.

As I walked over into Chief Walter's office, I couldn't help but notice that he was not sitting at his desk, which was a rare occurrence, as most of the time, if not all the time, he was found there diligently focused on his work. Instead, he was squinting out of the window, smoking from his old, dark brown wooden tobacco pipe that had his father's initials intricately engraved upon it, as he gazed intently at Officer Kingsley, who was desperately trying to locate a squad car in the parking lot, flinging the car keys around frantically in his hand. From where I stood at the entrance of his office, I had a clear view of Kingsley's struggle. It was evident that he was having a tough time pinpointing the right squad car that corresponded with the keys, a situation that seemed to occur far too often for my liking. In my opinion, Kingsley was not the brightest in the department, but then again, who am I to judge? I suppose I will leave that assessment up for debate for others who might encounter him along the way.

"Did you have anything to do with this, Justice?" Chief Walter asked me, shaking his head from side to side in disbelief as he remained visibly neurotic about Kingsley's lackluster struggles. He glanced at me, seemingly unsettled by my sudden presence, having noticed that I had entered his office far too quietly for his comfort.