mystery [L.Laufeyson]

preface; the detective

"It is five-fucking-am. What the hell do you want."

I demanded slowly, a dangerous snarl of hatred curling my lips as I stood in the doorway of my apartment, clutching a robe around me.

My partner, Debra Morgan, stood there with an annoyed look on her face. Her lips were pursed in slight aggravation, though she didn't seem annoyed by me. We both shared a hatred of being woken up early.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Debra joked, looking at the red bathrobe as a small laugh bubbles from her lips.

"What do you mean? It's a bathrobe, asshole. You woke me up." I chewed out, looking down at her outfit in hopes of a way to bash her, but she was dressed up in her normal clothes. She always looked like she was going to a barbecue, and I didn't bother to point it out for the billionth time.

Debra had a blue flannel tucked into boot cut jeans, tight fitting sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Deb was attractive, she couldn't clean up for shit, but she was hot. Her long brown hair fell past her shoulders in chocolate sweeps, and she had a small, almost imperceptible splash of brown freckles across her nose.

Finally, I noticed her detective's shield clipped onto her brown leather belt and her gun on her hip, and I deadpanned.

"Shit, where's the body."

"Not far from here. Get your fucking clothes on, I'll drive." Deb said, linking her thumbs through her belt loops as she relaxed her shoulders. I sighed exasperatedly, wondering when I'll actually get a full nights sleep as I stepped aside and let her in to my apartment.

The door spits you out into the living room, a solitary grey sofa furnishing the center and wrapping around the entirety of the sitting area that Debra elected to drop onto, kicking her boots onto the arm of the sofa and staring at the blank tv that was mounted on the wall.

"Sometime today, Torres." Debra called as she threw her head back, tapping her foot impatiently. I rolled my eyes. "They'll still be dead by the time we get there." I spat, before turning toward my bedroom at the end of the hall. The living room in my apartment shared space with the kitchen, a bar with a sink built in being the only thing that separated them. Down the hall was the two bedrooms and bathroom that was promised to me when I rented this place.

Fucking score.

I changed quickly into boot-cut jeans and a flannel, throwing on some cowboy boots and snug leather gloves before equipping my necessities; my gun, my badge, my shield, and a stick of gum. That was the most important part of my morning.

I exited my room while tying my blonde hair up into a ponytail, entering the living area where Debra was waiting impatiently. "Why didn't dispatch call me?" I asked, snatching my phone from the countertop on the kitchen bar.

"They did, why the hell do you think I'm here." She said, friendly agitation coating her words and I flipped over my phone to see two missed calls from the station. I winced.

"Fuck me in both ears, Lieutenant's gonna have my head." I groaned, jerking the door open and walking into the stairwell with Debra close behind me as I fumbled with my keys. She laughed.

"Solve the case and maybe she'll spare you." Debra said as I turned the corridor and began jogging down the stairs that lead down to the parking lot, picking up her pace to keep up with me. When I got to the bottom of the two flights of stairs and the parking lot was within sight, I turned toward my partner with a wicked grin.

"You know I always do,"

-

Debra and I approached the crime site slowly, a white paneled house with and brown, ugly ass roof with police tape surrounding the lush, well-cared-for surrounding yard. There were police cars parked outside, the blues and reds of their flashing, spiraling lights giving us the most light considering it was five thirty and the sun was just beginning to rise. A policeman clad in the blues and blacks of his uniform stepped forward as we arrived.