Finch actually did do well in stressful situations, as long as she knew in advance that they would be stressful, but Achilles didn't know this and rolled his eyes, not yet prepared to try and bring this flighty woman into a party hosted by the mafia. He drove his car back around the corner, heading into the shady part of town where their office was, but when it came into sight he passed it. Heading deeper into a place that most people generally avoided, almost all the way to the docks without telling her what they were doing or where they were going. It was as if he had never worked with another person before.
She peered out the window, looking more and more worried the longer they drove, “excuse me sir, where exactly are we going?”
He looked at her suddenly remembering he needed to tell people what was going on if they were working together “Ah, we’re gonna scope out the warehouse they just bought and see if we can’t find someone to lift some invites off of” he pulled over on the side of the road, car facing some large buildings, turned off the car, and turned his body to face her “also, don’t call me sir, my name is Achilles, my friends call me Lee and only my mother calls me Achy, got it?” he turned back in his seat and leaned backward, relaxing.
“Yes sir,” she responded. He shook his head, choosing not to pursue an argument.
They sat in silence for a bit when a fancy-looking car drove out of one of the warehouses, he started his car and slowly followed it, keeping his distance “that must be someone important, we’ll see where they go and wait for an opportunity”
This was not what the secretary expected from this job when she was hired that morning, “um aright, what then?”
Achilles thought for a second “how good are you with your hands?”
Finch looked flustered for a moment, then almost offended, “whatever do you mean?”
He slowed down to make sure the car in front of them didn’t get suspicious, “can you pick a pocket?”
Finch let out the breath she was holding “I- I think so?” then she realized that picking pockets wasn’t good either, “wait, why?”
The car in front of them pulled over next to a deli so he followed suit about a block away “because these guys are hardened criminals that have what we need, I don’t want to try and fight them so I’ll distract them while you come up behind us and turn out their pockets for any papers or envelopes that might be a set of invites''
She stared at him, eyes wide, “seriously? That's your plan?”
He nodded “you got a better one?”
She thought for a moment, and then rolled her eyes and sighed, “no, I don't, let's do it."
Achilles climbed out of the car and walked up the next block to the other car as they all got out “‘scuse me gents, any o’ you got a light?” he said as he held an unlit cigarette in his mouth and attempting to hide his voice. The three men that got out of the car looked at him suspiciously for a moment before one of them pulled out a gold-plated flip lighter and handed it to him “so anyways, what you fellas doin out here today?” they were getting visibly annoyed and he probably didn’t have long before they got fed up. He flicked the wheel on the lighter, gently enough that it would spark but wouldn’t light, again and again, and again, trying to buy enough time for Finch.
Finch snuck behind them and began to ever so carefully check their pockets, first visually, and then if they looked full, she reached in and checked the contents. She checked two of the three men's pockets and shook her head at Achilles. They were getting very quickly agitated, the last man, the one whose pockets she hadn't checked, was standing slightly farther from her, he was the one who had loaned the lighter. The two men whose pockets she had checked moved back, towards the deli, almost running into Finch. She turned and pretended to be inspecting something on the pavement.
The larger of the two men spoke, “alright Rogers, we are goin to go in, you hurry up with this idiot.” they walked into the deli, leaving them alone on the street with him.
The detective was still “struggling” with the lighter, and the remaining man lurched forward and grabbed it from him, lighting it, “there, now light your damn cig already.” Finch panicked, looking around, there was a large red crowbar on the ground, she picked it up, and swung at the man’s head. He dropped to the floor unconscious.
Eyes wide as saucers, she looked at the detective, arms still holding the crowbar in swinging position. “You alright?” she asked.
“Not quite how I would’ve done it, but effective” he knelt down and checked the guy's pockets, he pulled out an envelope and pocketed it then grabbed the lighter and took that too “we should go before the other two come check on their buddy, c’mon” he started walking back to the car, moving quickly but not running to avoid suspicion from any prying eyes. Finch followed him, not bothering to wait for Achilles to open the door for her, and jumped into the passenger seat. After they had started driving, she remembered the crowbar, she was still holding it, so tight that her knuckles had turned white. She relaxed her grip a bit and turned the piece of metal, inspecting it.
On the side, very roughly and deeply carved into it, read “Calypso” she ran her fingers over it, “my new friend has a name,” she commented.
“Good for you. Are you alright? You did good today.” he handed her the envelope “check that for me will you?”
She took the envelope, and carefully opened it.
Inside were two tickets, reading them she turned to the detective, “looks like we are Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, lucky that the name is common enough that it won't be too noticeable”
He nodded “Great, we’re set then, tell me about your new buddy” he pointed at the crowbar.
“I'm sorry sir, I saw it on the ground and I panicked when he lunged at you.”
His eyes narrowed a little bit at being called sir “I would’ve been alright but I appreciate the help. And stop calling me sir, not in this context”
She stared at him, tilting her head, looking incredibly confused, “what context would you prefer?”
He smirked “sorry sweetheart I don’t date coworkers” he pulled over next to the office “but you did help me out today so I’ll at least buy you a drink sometime” she opened her mouth to speak and then closed it, and just sat there for a moment flustered.
“Just trying to be professional, sir,” she said, loud enough for him to hear, but still quiet enough to be a whisper.
Achilles turned off the car and looked at her “unnecessary. I think we’ll call it a day for now, you have a way home?”
She looked down at her lap, feeling as if she had been scolded, “I walked here, it's just around the block and up the street a bit.”
He patted her shoulder “I’ll drive you home then, you did good today, but you’ve also done a lot more than expected for a first day” he started the car, the engine rumbling, and turned around the corner.
“Just point it out to me” it only took about five minutes to reach her place, a tiny apartment with a tiny balcony, plants overflowing from it.
“That's me,” she pointed to it.
He looked up at the little apartment “cute” he thought to himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out some cash, then handed her a couple of twenties “here, a bonus for exemplary performance”
She gaped down at them, “sir, this is far too much.”
He placed it in her hand, his own hand resting on top of it in hers “it’s just fine, I was expecting you to sit around the office all day but instead you came with me and made my job much easier. So just take the damn money” she took it hesitantly.
After taking a deep breath she flashed him a bright smile, “thank you, sir, I enjoyed working with you today.”
He put both hands on the wheel, feeling better now that she’d taken it “See you tomorrow then? Eight o’clock?”
She had already begun to back towards the stairs that lead up to her apartment, “absolutely” turning, she quickly climbed the stairs, waving back at him from the top before unlocking the door and going inside.
He sighed, then drove back to the office. When he got there he went inside and locked the door. He took his dusty trench coat off the hook on the wall and laid down on top of it. Sleeping on the floor behind his desk
YOU ARE READING
1962
RomanceThe year was 1962, a lone woman walks into a detectives office, unaware that both of their lives were about to change. (Rough draft)
