Living under constant microscopic inspection from my boss and partner, I tended to spend half my days biting my tongue while trying and failing to shape myself into something I wasn’t.
The expected jibing began with kickoff, and I reached for my beer, grinning and shaking my head at my best friend and neighbor as he insulted every aspect of Buffalo’s plays, criticizing players, coaches, and every single penalty.
I had barely swallowed my first sip of beer when the inevitable happened. My phone, which never made it under the wheel of Elifet’s car, rang. With its shrill cry—a ringtone I’d set specifically to warn about calls from work—my pleasant Sunday afternoon plans evaporated.
Tossing my head back, I groaned. “Fuck me. For real?”
“You said no, remember. I offered.”
I threw a pillow at his face, and he laughed, singing, “Should have kept your mouth shut.”
Setting the beer on the coffee table, I grabbed my phone and connected the call with a terse, “Yeah.”
“We’ve got a body. Rideau River Nature Trail near the access off Telmon Street. I’ll text you the exact coordinates. Hayashi will meet you there. Forensics is already processing the scene.”
Staff Sergeant Olivia Golding never beat around the bush. Her detached manner and sharp tongue made her hard to like, but she was good at her job. My partner thought I took Golding’s attitude too personally, but my boss wasn’t my biggest fan. She went out of her way to criticize everything I did and every decision I made.
At least three times a week, she reminded me that the only reason I was promoted to homicide was because the other applicants didn’t qualify, and they had to hire someone. The underlying message was clear. They wished that someone wasn’t me.
Golding’s icy eyes watched me with contempt, waiting for me to screw up so she could drag me into her office for a reprimand. Did she have a reason to be so derisive? Oh yes. My years on street patrol were far from exemplary. But alas, due to a shortage of applicants and strain in the homicide sector, she had no choice but to take me on.
“Hello? Are you with me, Haven?”
“Yeah. No problem. On my way.”
“You better not have been drinking.”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’ll know.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m aware.”
The phone clicked before I could ask for further details.
“Your boss is nothing but a cock block. You should have told her you had a hot guy in your bed.”
I huffed and tossed the phone on the coffee table. “That is the last thing I would ever tell her. Besides, you weren’t getting laid today, so quit pretending you were.”
Elifet and I weren’t in a relationship. Our personalities didn’t mesh. We hooked up on occasion, but it was rare.
“A travesty. Look at the bright side. Maybe a certain new-hire pathologist will be at the scene. Are you still pining after that handsome devil?”
I grinned but didn’t answer.
“Thought so.” Elifet’s teasing faded, replaced by an expression of worry. “So, you gotta go, huh?”
“Yeah. DB somewhere on Rideau Nature Trail, but you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Maybe an old guy went out for a cold-weather run and collapsed from a heart attack. It’s been known to happen.”
True, but I sensed I wouldn’t be so lucky. Rue and I wouldn’t have been called to evaluate had the responding officers not suspected a homicide.
I handed Elifet my untouched beer. “When Buffalo wins—”
“They won’t.”
“When Buffalo wins…” I pointedly glared. “Just know I’m happy-dancing even though you can’t see it.”
