Paint the town blue

Chapter X

Two and a half months have passed since my visit to Max. Exactly 74 days, to be precise. No, I don't keep any special record of the days and don't make marks on my calendar, as prisoners often do on the walls of their cells in movies. I do it totally unconsciously, it's like some kind of stupid obsession - as if I count the days from the meeting, the more days pass, the easier it'll be for me to let Max go. Stupid? Yes. Will it help me? No. Will I continue to mentally count the days? Of course.

I was still working at the station and solving some small cases, praying in my heart that we wouldn't have any more high-profile cases. And so far, all my prayers have been heard. I still worked alone and didn't even ask for any partners – I've already had enough of one bitter experience and I definitely don't want another one.

It was noon when I was sitting in my office and reading the news reports on the site without any interest. More robberies, small thefts, some students got into a fight somewhere near the nightclub. Nothing that could attract my attention, so I decided to get down to business with a robbery of a modest jewelry store. Having registered electronically in this case as a responsible detective, I printed out all the reports and photos taken before and after the store robbery. Judging by the initial reports of the officers who arrived there, the owner himself, an elderly man, could hardly name at least some of the stolen jewelry, so, taking printouts of the crime scene, I began examining the jewelry stands. It's like in the game "spot the differences" in two pictures – you look, compare, mark. Nothing too difficult, but you still have to strain your brains and eyes.

I studied the photos and took notes for several hours, so closer to the afternoon I decided to take a break – I still need to give my head a rest. Getting up from my seat and leaving the office, I went to the cafeteria – coffee there is still much better than in our coffee machines, although they have already been changed more than once.

There are almost no officers in the cafeteria at this time, so I didn't have to waste time standing in line. Taking a large mug of coffee and a puff pastry bun, I sat down at a table in the corner and began to eat my "lunch". If Yuki saw this, he'd definitely hit me hard, or tell me off that I was spoiling my stomach. I even smiled, imagining this picture: angry mama-Yuki and I-don't-give-a-damn kid Charles.

Sitting on a chair and drinking coffee, I took out my phone and began flipping through the news feed on various social networks: politics, show business, politics again - that makes me sick already. After closing one social network, I went to another – still, reading posts from friends is much more pleasant to me than from all sorts of parliamentary and journalistic rats. I looked at posts from brothers, from acquaintances from other countries, from distant relatives. It's nice to see familiar faces, even through the phone screen.

Soon after finishing my snack, I returned to my office and went back to work with the jewelry store. First, I double-checked my previous work, then I began to look at the photos again and make new notes.

Looking at the photos of the shop windows and tapping the corner of the phone on the table, I didn't immediately hear a knock on the door of my office. When I allowed the knocker to enter, I was extremely surprised by the appearance of this man. Alex Albon, our ex-specialist from the cybercrime department, came into my office, asked for a transfer to the British department and flew away a few days before George's death.

"Wow, what a nice and totally unexpected surprise."

"Yes, yes, and hello to you, Leclerc."

Smiling, I got up from the chair, and he came up to me, we shook hands and I invited him to sit on the sofa. I offered him a cup of coffee, to which he readily agreed. I have long been tired of our slop coffee from vending machines, so I bought a small coffee machine for the office. So to speak, for personal use.