Crow's Nest [✓]

Chapter 17

Thomas and Harry reached the entrance to Thomas's apartment building. The street outside was relatively still, the cool autumn night air carrying a slight chill. Thomas pushed open the door and held it for Harry as they entered, the lobby of the building opening up in front of them.

The lobby was fairly spacious and clean, a few armchairs and a small coffee table set up near the elevators. The night security guard, a middle-aged man named Jake, looked up from his newspaper with a small nod. Thomas always thought he'd been ex-military, judging from his scars and tattoos.

"Evening, Detective Thomas," he greeted, his voice familiar.
"Hey, Jake," Thomas greeted back, giving a casual wave. "Quiet night?"
Jake chuckled faintly, folding his newspaper. "Yeah, nothing major to report," he replied, his eyes shifting to Harry. He didn't recognize Harry, so he raised an eyebrow in slight curiosity.
Thomas noticed the curious look in Jake's eyes and quickly filled in the introduction. "This is Detective Harry Hole," he said gesturing towards his partner, "He's a colleague from Norway."

Jake nodded in understanding, his gaze now more casual. "Ah, foreign exchange detective," he noted, the corners of his mouth twitching into a faint smile.

"Yeah, something like that," Thomas responded lightheartedly, walking towards the elevators. "He's working a case with me so he'll be staying at my place for a while."

Jake nodded, the understanding in his eyes now replaced with a hint of curiosity. It was unusual for detectives to share accommodations, but it wasn't unheard of.

They ascended up the elevator, the whirring of the machinery and the soft elevator music the only sounds filling the silence between them. Soon, they reached the door to Thomas's apartment, the number 405 clearly visible on the door.

Thomas unlocked it and ushered them both inside. "Make yourself at home," he said, tossing his keys onto the small table near the door. "Mi casa es su casa."

Harry nodded appreciatively, dropping his bag by the door and taking a quick look around. The apartment was neat and decently furnished, reflecting Thomas's preference for order. The living room was the biggest area, with an open kitchen area, a dining table, and a soft L-shaped sofa with a coffee table facing a wall-mounted TV.

"The bedrooms are down that hall," Thomas said, pointing towards a corridor with three doors. "First one on the left is the guest bedroom, which you'll be using. Then there's mine and a small room I use as an office."

Thomas headed to the kitchen, flicking on the lights. "You hungry? I can whip up something real quick," he offered, opening the fridge and peering inside.

Harry had walked towards the hallway, taking a quick look at the rooms. The guest bedroom was quite cozy, a double bed, a nightstand, and a dresser neatly arranged, a small window opening up to a quiet street view. He turned back to face the living room. "Could be worse," he said with a shrug, a slightly amused smile playing at his lips.

He was about to walk towards the kitchen when his stomach grumbled, revealing his hunger. "Some food would be great," he admitted, his tone somewhat embarrassed.

Thomas peeked his head out from the kitchen, an understanding smile on his face. "Ah, the call of the stomach," he said, amusement in his tone. He disappeared back into the kitchen, the sounds of cooking soon filling the air. "Just give me a few minutes, I should have something done in no time."

Thomas busied himself in the kitchen, the scent of a meal being cooked filling the apartment. He chopped, sautéed, and fried ingredients with practiced ease, his movements efficient and calm. The sounds of sizzling and the occasional pop of oil filled the air.

About 20 minutes later, the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of a warm meal. Plate by plate, Thomas started placing the food onto the dining table. A mix of seasoned chicken, steamed vegetables, and fluffy rice presented in an appealing way, the final touches completed with a small sprig of parsley for color.

The food looked as good as it smelled, the chicken cooked to a golden color, the vegetables vibrant, and the rice perfectly fluffy. Thomas wiped his hands on a towel and turned to Harry with a smile. "Dinner's ready. Hope you're hungry," he said, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

Harry gave a thankful nod, his stomach continuing to grumble. "Smells amazing," he complimented, taking a seat at the dining table, ready to dig in.

Harry helped himself to a portion of the meal, Thomas following suit. The two detectives ate in comfortable silence, the food quickly disappearing from the plates. Thomas couldn't help but note Harry's quick eating pace, a chuckle escaping him. "Slow down, the food's not going anywhere," he teased lightly.

Harry paused mid-bite, a sheepish grin appearing on his face. "Can't help it," he admitted, taking a moment to swallow his current bite before continuing, "Haven't had a home-cooked meal in ages. Food's... surprisingly good."

The faint compliment was the most praise Harry had expressed thus far about anything, and Thomas took it with satisfaction, a small sense of pride swelling within him.

With the last bite consumed, Thomas and Harry pushed their plates away, both satisfied and full. Thomas leaned back in his seat, a small sigh of contentment escaping him. "Not bad if I do say so myself," he said, his tone self-assured.

He got up and started clearing the table, collecting the plates and utensils. "Let me get these dishes into the dishwasher. You make yourself comfortable on the sofa or something."

Harry nodded, moving to the living room. He sunk into the sofa, the soft cushions molding slightly under his weight. He picked up the TV remote, intending to find something interesting to watch, when Thomas' phone buzzed on the coffee table. Curiosity getting the better of him, he picked it up and saw a notification that the background check on Lucas was complete.

Harry hesitated for a moment, torn between respecting Thomas's privacy and his own inherent curiosity. Ultimately, the lure of possibly crucial information won out, and he swiped the notifications, opening the report. He scanned through the information, his expression tensing as each piece fell into place.

Lucas's file revealed a trail of trouble. His name was listed in association with three cases of public intoxication, two instances of shoplifting, and one incident of minor assault. He was also known to frequent a bar downtown, 'The Rusty Nail'.

"Mama's Boy's not so clean afterall..." Harry mumbled to himself as he continued reading. After a while he quickly set the phone down again and continued staring at the TV, not really paying attention to the show but instead processing the information.

Eventually 11PM came around in which Thomas and Harry bid each other good night, each retiring to their respective rooms.

The house grew still, the silence only broken by the occasional creak of floorboards or the distant hum of traffic outside. The city's lights glimmered through the windows, casting a faint, ever-moving illumination on the walls.

Harry found himself tossing and turning, the events of the day still circling in his mind, preventing him from falling asleep. His brain felt too wired to rest.

Harry felt a jolt of something he hadn't felt in a long time: anticipation. The Rusty Nail, a bar known for its seedy reputation, might be a piece in the puzzle of their case. The itch to uncover leads, to push boundaries, began to gnaw at him again.

With a quick look into Thomas's closed bedroom door, finding him fast asleep, he made his decision. Grabbing his light jacket, Harry crept out of the apartment building, a cool night breeze greeting him.