Chasing Polaroids

Chapter Two (2/2)

EDDIE. 

Everyone is looking at me weird today.

          I put down my bag as I sit at my desk, and I see the mess of the past month make itself clear to me.

          When you work on a project for a really long time, there really isn't much you can do about mess. In the beginning, maybe you try to control it, mitigate it as much as possible by cleaning up after every session or meeting you have, but soon enough, the forces of work take over and you have no other choice but to learn to live with the mess. It's hectic, tiring and almost instinctual, which is just how I've been living the past four months that I've been on the case of the Vasquez brothers.

          To me, the table is littered with folders on the duo, information about their rise to empiredom, recordings of interviews with people who used to be part of their operation, notes regarding the theories we used to have on their whereabouts, more folders on what turned out to be true based on anonymous tips, and a whole concoction of other files that helped in the arrest of Samuel and Vincent Vasquez last night.

          To everyone else, this is a torrent of wind that came and struck my desk, wiping everything out in its sight. I guess I'll have to work on removing that notion.

          "Hey, asshole." someone says as they tap my shoulder.

          I turn around on my desk chair and see jet black hair, waxed and slicked back, accompanied by a sly smirk dotted with freckles. Chet Brenner.

          "What do you want?" I ask him.

          "Nothing much, I'm just here to say thanks for giving me the Larsen case, and to tell you that Lieutenant Richards is calling for you at his office." he replies.

          "Larsen case?" I ask.

          "Yeah," he replies. "The one you bailed on."

          I look away, giving Chet the victory in this conversation. Me and Chet have never been on good terms, ever since he arrived here a few years ago. I was top of my game at that time, and he came around and stole every case from me. We were very competitive. At first, he took my aggression and charge to double up as a challenge, as a chance to prove himself in the district. But in all honesty, I was pissed off. Steal my thunder, and I'll have to take it back from you doubly so. There was no playful banter, no fun and games, no friendly rivalry. It was all me wanting to get him off of my skin.

          He's caught on to that. And he hasn't stopped, which explains him stealing the Larsen case from me. He walks away, looking back to me with a grin which is both kind and devilishly crushing at the same time, like a tiger playing kitty to lure you into its cage. Once he's out of sight, I get up from my chair and walk towards Rick's office.

          Once I reach Rick's door, I knock. Three short raps on the door, enough to sound like I give a damn about whatever it is he wishes to preach to me.

          "Come in." I hear from inside, muffled by the door.

          I open the door, welcomed by a soft creaking, and see Rick sitting there. His skin is a burnt umber, tainted with dark lines and greying hair cut short. He's exhausted, like the storm that came across my table somehow did a number on his face, leaving it with deep crevices for wrinkles. He's wearing a button-up that's sitting under a fine layer of time, colored a faint pink mixed in with all kinds of folds and busy lines. 

          "Ed." he says.

          I nod. He points me towards the chair that sits in front of his desk. I take a seat. He takes a deep breath.