The Daffodil Killer

Three.

Verona.

Ive been sitting in this office chair for so long.
As soon as I reached the precinct, I went straight up to Captain's office and he made me sit here for a good half hour, just waiting in silence with him because he won't open his mouth to tell me why he summoned me. My feet have tapped, my knees have bounced and my knuckles have cracked, my finger twirling around the long chocolate hair I take so much pride in having. Still, nothing could cure the boredom—or more accurately, the suspense riddling through my entire body. Tokyo knows I'm not a patient person to start with—not that I'm proud of it or anything. I actually hate it, but my mind is so hyperactive all the time that I'm used to everything coming in quick and rushed and straight to the point. Not whatever this is.
But a knock pulls me out of my thoughts as soon as I start to fall in too deep, and Tokyo's two words of permission echo in this vast office I doubt he needs all of. Hardwood floors, a huge wooden desk and velvet blue chair, shelves upon shelves lined with books and badges and awards. It feels like a museum of achievements more than anything.

I'm about to say something about it to the middle aged ebony-skinned man but the sound of a door opening stops me, and my attention turns to that instead.

In walks the most distinctive looking man I've ever seen. Pale, pale blond hair it's almost white, eyes as green as a Forrest in the middle of spring, bright and daring and dangerous. He's dangerous. I can tell, and it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. It's written all over him, and his black trench coat and boots only add to the aesthetic and image.

"Detective Rome, good," Tokyo says, getting up to greet him.

Did I hear that right? Rome? That means he's in my name group, and I know everyone in my name group. So how come I've never seen him before? And if I saw him, I would remember him. It's impossible to forget someone who looks like that. So in your face and bold.

"Why am I here, Tokyo?" The man says, clearly bored.

"Well, sit down," my captain tells him, going to sit down in his velvet chair and gesturing for Rome to take a seat next to me.

"This is detective Verona, she's our best."
The man gets a big smile from me, a warm welcome with warm eyes. If I charm him, he won't look like he wants to eat me. Or kill me. Or end me.

But he doesn't even spare me a glance, his focus solely on my captain.

"Hi," I say, sticking out my hand against my better judgment. "Happy to meet you."

My smile hurts a little as I flash the bear my teeth, knowing I shouldn't poke him because he looks positively livid and bored and annoyed simultaneously. But oh, well. If he's here in my precinct, he'll have to get used to me. Not everyone is grumpy and broody.

And just when I think he won't take my hand, leaving it floating in the air and asking for his, he shakes it, all big and veiny and twice the size of mine. His pale hand engulfs mine, and I think everything about this man is...consuming. His energy, his hands, his eyes.

"She's been named the best in the Italian name group, so you're working with quite literally the best detective twenty two has to offer," Tokyo adds, and I want to kiss his cheek so hard I'll bite a hole through it. Thank you, captain. You come in clutch.

We both watch Rome for an answer, and all Tokyo's words do is ignite the most minuscule fire of disagreement in his eyes. I can see it now, hear a mile away, his reply. No, she's not the best in her name group because I'm here. Besides, Rome is the capital city of Italy, so it would be wrong for me not to be the best. Blah blah blah. Arrogance rolls off his expertly ironed trench in waves, and that too is consuming.

But all the man does is give us an unamused hum, like we're mere scums beneath his cheapest dress shoes. Like they're not even real leather.

"You gonna explain?" Rome asks, and I wish with all that I am that I could slap that smug expression off his face, tell him to stop being so damn arrogant, but I can't. I need to be nice Verona. I need to be quaint and quiet and humble Verona. Smiley and bubbly Verona.
Seeming to just remember, Tokyo sits up a little straighter in his chair, and I just know he's feeling a little embarrassed by this Rome man. What a total jerk. He's a real piece of work, this one. Just because he comes from twenty four, who get the most murders, doesn't mean hes superior. We get murders too, and even if it's not as much as them, it's still something. Besides, isn't less murder supposed to be a good thing? It's not fun seeing ice cold bodies splayed out on the floor with their limbs cut off, stab wounds plunged into their chests, and so much brutality.

"Well, I'm aware that there's been thefts in your neighbourhood and that you've been in charge of the string of them. You've had every one of the cases that's been brought to our attention," he starts. "The thefts with the daffodils? Well, we think that's escalated to homicide now. Earlier today, at 6:50 am, a neighbour of Mrs. Thomas reported hearing blood-curdling screams which subsided after one or two of them. When two of our Asia name group detectives, detective Mumbai and detective Pukhet showed up to the scene, their report detailed a bloody daffodil laying idly by the body, and when I asked detective Verona about it, she said she heard about similar theft cases twenty four handled a while back. To my knowledge, you haven't caught this daffodil thief, yes?" Tokyo's voice is calm, collected and confident, hands interlaced on the desk in front of us.

My gaze flits between the two men, the bear looking to be extremely focused to the point where I'm sure if I slashed his jugular he wouldn't notice. Not that I want to, of course...

"That is correct," the bear in question says, nodding once. "Have forensics been at the scene yet?"

Tokyo replies with a nod much like Rome's.

"Very well then, I expect the reports to be transferred to Detective Verona's files so we can start working?"

As much as I dislike this man already for a plethora of reasons, arrogance obviously included, he's right. Even if Tokyo didn't say it explicitly, it's painfully clear why he's called this detective from all the way in twenty four to come here. We're going to be partners. Terrific. The cards I'm dealt are always the same. Always horrible, always annoying and always coming on the form of insufferable case partners. Like a few weeks back, when I was paired with Sydney from the Australia name group. He was so nerve-grating I almost shed a tear. Many of them, actually. He nearly drove me to the point of reporting him to Tokyo with all his mistakes and deliberate lack of work. The heavy case of a double homicide was thrown on my shoulders, no one else to relieve me of the weight of it all. I did the all paperwork, I sent the evidence that I collected to the labs, I didn't get breaks and sleep, all while he lounged around, crunching loudly on whatever he felt like eating that day. And more than once—annoyingly so, his crumbs would land on my reports, which made me feel like crying.

And now, there's this blond man whos seemingly showed up out of nowhere, who I've been forced to work with on the daffodil case. Hooray.