Hiding Within The Betrayal

Chapter Ten: I'm in charge

"Your assistant, who I spoke with earlier on the phone, informed me that you have new leads for the Jessy Flanagan investigation." Detective Bakshi politely stated as he met my eye; with a second to think his expression whimpered, "If you don't mind me asking, Detective Degarmo, what brings you here if you have new leads. Surely with such information, new information for you to follow up, you know where to go next?"

His words were spoken with a certain kind of professionalism, though it was overly apparent that he himself was confused by my decision. That's what comes from having my kind of impactful reputation. He knew this wasn't a norm for me.

After arriving at the desk and informing the receptionist that I was there to meet Detective Bakshi, no time was wasted. I had been swiftly escorted to the top floor. Guided to an obnoxiously dressed head office with a frosted silver nameplate 'Detective Bakshi' on the door as it wasn't noticeable enough that it was his office. A way of owning the room which I didn't feel was entirely necessary but we won't talk about my opinion in the matter.

Though the receptionist was on the ball, he however was clearly preoccupied when I arrived pretty much on time. By what is another question. If it was working on an investigation then that would be fine but it came to my attention that it certainly wasn't. It took the receptionist three knocks on his door before he responded and even then she was the one who opened the door clearly growing impatient as was I. It was evidently just ignorance. 

Once inside the room, he greeted me the way that an old school friend does. Rather unsure about what to say and a lingering judgemental gaze. Thankfully, the reunion formalities were cast aside within the minute as he gestured towards a seat opposite his desk for me to sit at for our very private conversation allowing the receptionist (who wasn't aware that we had already met) to head back to the ground floor.

While he drowned my ears in a list of his personal accomplishments that he had made since our last encounter, my mind wandered. I unintentionally noticed something out of the ordinary about the feature wall behind his obnoxiously oversized desk. The wall had been pompously decorated in an attempt to conceal the fact that it had been installed later than the rest of the building, purely to divide the two rooms. As he wasn't the only lieutenant for the company it made sense that the giant office was split in two so that the head man could give half the responsibilities away to someone else.  Though it wasn't much grander than the size of mine it was over embellished and looked so tacky. Very Bakshi. 

Our paths had crossed on a few occasions when we were both studying at University. Although we both studied the same subject and even went on to specialize in the same area, we were never all that close - to say we were friends was pushing the boat out. From the moment he opened his mouth, I could tell that he was as much up his own arse now as he was back then: it not worse.  was just as up his arse now as he was then. I was there to speak about a case that was urgent and here he was telling me about himself and how much he was worth trying to get me idolize him. All things I could easily have competed with if I cared enough to put him to shame. Now wasn't the time.

Most of what he told me, I already knew about, hence allowing myself to be ignorant towards him and the bullshit cascading from his weirdly shaped mouth. Seriously, if the guy really had as much money as he seemed to be fronting then he should have got them fixed, it was off putting.

As students, we spoke every now and again. It seemed that our peers had either given up, been unsuccessful in the industry or hadn't achieved the success that we had. 

He was on my level. Pretty much. The only difference was that my company was fair smaller but of course it was entirely my own, there was no divide in the wall to the true head of corporation who had set up and done all the actual work. I earned everything myself. No one's lap dog pretending to be top dog.

Detective Bakshi was over dressed for the amount of people he was seeing that day. His dark skin shinning like sun reflects off water as if he had applied highlighter to himself.  He was wearing a brown Tweed bladder with matching trousers. His thick black beard cut at a perfect curved angle for his jawline and equally presented hair. Sophisticated. Fairly attractive even for a man.

"I know that we could solve this case. Either of us," I responded to the question he had presented me with, "without the others help: if time wasn't a factor."

He lent back with his forearms against the padded  armrests listening intensely. I therefore continued, "I was only recently-" in frustration rolled my eyes thinking back to Tess's ignorance, "Exceptionally recently, informed that the Lawson's, your co-shared company, picked the case back up."

He nodded, "You were busy I imagine. It even got into the news. About Matteo. The press loved the story about the hidden room. Must have brought you more money right?"

I had to hold myself back.

People go into roles like ours for a multitude of reasons. Some people enjoy discovering things, have a personal reason to be invested or like the arsehole in that office only care about the paycheck at the end of it. Disgusting attitude.

Not the motive I had.

Biting my tongue, "Why did you pick up the case when you had already handed it over?"

His ignorant smile plundered. He wasn't expecting me to call him out. He simply shrugged, "Was one of the lead detective's idea, I just went along with it."

I sighed. He was never going to change.

I had overheard the odd few conversations he had with other students, again back when we were studying. I quickly learnt how he wanted a masters degree but didn't want to put in the time or effort to get one. He would pay no interest to the case studies. How he didn't read the right materials. He lent on other people for the answers and he was doing it again now when he was shared head of a well to do corporation.

"Right well, if we want to bring Jessy Flanagan home safely then the best thing to do is combine the information we have and get it solved quickly and conveniently. Who have you left in charge of the case?" I stood promptly from the seat, eager to get on with finding a the kidnapper not having a catch up.

He shook his head flummoxed, "I'm in charge of the case."

Lifting my brief case up onto the desk I gritted my teeth, "Well then, Detective Bakshi, I want to know what new evidence you have. What made you so eager to reopen the case. What do you think we can piece together to catch the one who took her?"

He let out a rude throat click, "Okay fine. I don't actually know. When the mother came forward with more information I didn't speak with her personally. I have a lower rank who had the pleasure of dealing with her"

I was bewildered. Why would he give up the chance to learn such valuable information?

Getting the answer I needed without causing a fuss, "Who can I go to that knows the case inside and out? Can answer all my inquires?"

"Senior detective um, gosh... what's the guy's name?" Like a school teacher forgetting the name of a pupil, he was roaming the corners of his mind and clicking his fingers on both hands as if it would miraculously help the name spring to mind. How he even had to think about it was beyond me. I knew my staff like the back of my hand and here was this guy forgetting the name of his staff!

"It's um... Um. Patrick! Yeah that's it." He could see the expression on my face and instantly deepened his tone as if I hadn't just witnessed what I had, "I'll take you to him." He raised himself from the desk and began tidying himself up as he headed over to the door. Brushing back his jelled hair and patting down his blazer, making sure that his the ends of his sleeves were folded at just the right angle.

Holding open the door for me, "I want this girl found just as much as you do."