Guns And Roses

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Halfway through to his destination, Walker slowed down a bit, realizing that he was going at 85 miles an hour. He had to, just to make sure, that no one was following him. What in the world was happening, thought Walker, frustrated more than irritated or terrified. Not knowing really frustrated him. Just as soon as he had returned from the investigation of a horrific mass murder, he had been threatened, an almost archaic manner. A note tied to the end of an arrow. Spear, Walker mechanically corrected himself. Why did the person in question use a spear? That was what he didn't understand. An arrow would have sufficed. Two solutions came to his mind. Firstly, the man was acquainted with spears more than arrows. For example, a soldier or marine who used such equipment during the years of his service. Another, the reason which appealed to him more, was that an arrow would not have been able to break through the window, its tip being slightly broader than that of a spear. A traffic light in front of him flashed red, but he went on. Taking a couple of lefts, he reached Thornton’s place. He lived in a building complex. Diamond District, by name, it was a low-budget complex without many facilities. However, it was simple in a way which appealed to Walker, the same way it must have done to Shane. Thornton lived on the 5th floor of the 9-floor building. He parked his Pontiac Vibe in the building’s parking lot, near an unregistered spot, presumably for visitors. He got out of his car, along with his gun and his belongings which were in a small rucksack. He took the lift up to the 5th floor, which promptly pinged before opening. It was some time since Walker had last come here, six months at least. There were six apartments on every floor, and Thornton resided in the second one to the left of the elevator. Thornton was a nocturnal creature. He usually didn't sleep before midnight. He must have been informed about the murder by the Chief or someone in the Force. He would probably be returning from the crime scene, being called in after Walker, just for a routine check. Assuming that he had been called after he had left the scene himself, Thornton must be returning in just under a couple of minutes. These deductions were involuntary, and of course, accurate. A couple of minutes later, sure enough, the elevator pinged, and out came Shane Thornton. He was pleasantly surprised to find his boss waiting at his door, smiling. “Well, sir. I must say I’m surprised!” exclaimed Shane in his clear and warm voice. “I’ll explain everything, Thornton, as soon as we settle in,” said Walker. “It’s quite cold out here.” Thornton took out his key and inserted it into the lock. It clicked, and they were soon inside, relaxing on the couch in front of a modest furnace, with a couple of beers in front of them on a glass table.

Junior Detective Shane Thornton was an Australian by birth, born in Canberra. He had, in his relatively early years, proved himself to be a genius in fields such as Mathematics, and Chemistry. However, he also possessed keen insights on any matter put to him, and had the eye of a Detective. Choosing the latter to be his profession, as that was where his interest lay, he had studied at the University of California, the same place where Walker had himself studied. Walker had been a year ahead of him, however. They had been good friends from those days, as they both had the same aspirations. Thornton’s parents had found it difficult to send him abroad for education, as it wasn't exactly in their budget. His mother was a housewife, and his father a small-scale farmer. They had somehow, through intense hard work, succeeded in realizing his dreams. They now themselves lived in New York, a couple of blocks away from here. Thornton’s father had finally caught a break, winning the annual lottery, a grand prize of $5 million. He’d given up farming, and settled down with his wife peacefully in The Big Apple.

Thornton himself was a robust man, a couple of inches shorter than Walker. This was probably due to his choice of sport. While Walker had dedicated himself to basketball, Thornton had taken to baseball after arriving in the States. He had a tanned bronzed face, with brown, cropped up hair. He had a modestly attractive face, he’d heard from women in the past, from their college days. Something about his sympathetic green eyes “melting the hearts of girls” as opposed to Walker’s brown eyes. They’d come to joke about it for many years, but those very same warm eyes, could be piercingly dangerous when they wanted to. He had great upper body strength, probably even more than Walker. Both the people sitting under the high ceiling didn't get along with many people, but the two of them always got along just fine.

They started talking of their University days, joking about the pranks they used to play on freshmen, while Walker surveyed the room they were living in. One of Thornton’s many assets was that he used to keep everything clean, tidy and hygienic. Whether it was his dorm room back in college, or his armpit’s, you could bet your life that they would be clean. Walker approved of this, as he looked around the hall. The red couch on which he was seated was very comfortable, more than his, in fact. Thornton was seated on a grandfather chair, rocking to and fro. A table of glass in front of them, though not of the best quality, was free of even a speck of dust. Thornton never did like television much, as much as Walker could recall. However, he still had to keep up with the news which was why a 24-inch T.V. lay on a series of drawers, just beside the kitchen. Thornton was a fan of dark, enclosed spaces, hence his windows were usually closed and his curtains often drawn. It wasn't like he was secretive or an introvert, he just didn't have a high opinion of the New York air.

After a little more discussion on the politics, and with their beer glasses refilled, they proceeded to matters close at hand, now with a renewed professionalism, which was succeeded by reminiscent and joyful thoughts of the past.