“Officer,” Lieutenant Charles Niles greeted me. He only ever wanted to be called Niles, as neither Charles nor Charlie seemed to suit him, and nodded at me as I passed and dropped a paper bag containing a donut on his desk. Niles smirked at me. He’d been with the force for over twenty years and had been pivotal in my training. I was thrilled when I had been assigned to the same precinct as him, even though I wouldn’t tell him—his head didn’t need to be any bigger. Although he’d reprimanded me after finding out about my off-the-books investigation, I was lucky not to have made an enemy of him.
Maybe I kept myself in his good books with donuts.
Making my way across the floor, I joined the morning meeting, a few other officers still trickling in as I flung myself onto a chair, waiting for today’s jobs to be assigned.
Sergeant Ted Burke strolled in, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke despite him telling his wife he had given it up, and surveyed the room. Not one for greetings, he immediately began to dish out today’s duties, teaming people up.
“Sergeant,” I spoke up. If looks could kill, I’d be dead where I sat at the way he looked at me. The room went silent because you don’t interrupt the sergeant.
Especially Burke.
“Yes, Kline?” he asked, a slow drawl to emphasize his disinterest.
“Is the murder of Officer Kim still being investigated?”
Is it possible for silence to intensify? It certainly felt like it as though the air had been sucked out of the room.
“Officer Kim committed suicide.” Burke’s voice was tight, and I could see a vein in his temple throbbing. It was only when the one in his neck began to pulsate you knew you were in realtrouble.
“But he left no note. He was a type one diabetic, and anyone who knew him would have known that—”
“Kline—”
“How many people know you can kill someone with an overdose of insulin? One full pen of fast-acting insulin would kill hi—”
“Kline, you will shut your mouthright now—”
“He had no history of depression, there were no signs, and he made no attempts to get his affairs in order—”
“Or I’ll suspend youindefinitely—”
“The report said his bank accounts were drained. Why would he—”
“Kline!”
I only shut my mouth then, with the bellow that came from Burke, enough to silence the entire floor. There it was, the vein in his neck looking as though it was ready to burst. His face was red, and his white mustache twitched with irritation. I’d like to stand my ground, but as he stormed across the room and slammed his palms on the table in front of me, I leaned away from his rage. No one asked how I knew about the insulin because nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of Burke’s anger.
I knew because my father had died the same way.
Detectives always say they don’t believe in coincidence, but no one would listen to me. Either they, too, were being paid off, or they were being threatened to mark it off as a suicide by someone who was. Or they were shit at their jobs. Two deaths, both with their assets and finances liquidated, died of a supposedly self-inflicted deadly insulin dose. It would be easy to do, easier than trying to hang or shoot someone and make it look like they did it themselves.
Coincidence? I don’t think so.
Burke’s face was close to mine. “The investigation has been conducted by detectives who were in the force before you were a worm in your father’s ball sack.” I scowled at him, but he continued, “Shut. Your. Mouth.”
I sure hope my eyes conveyed what I was thinking.
I’ll keep investigating without you,not to mention with a hefty dose offuck you.
Was this whole fucking force corrupt? Or just stupid?
Crossing my arms over my chest, I rolled my eyes as he moved back to the small podium. When he reached the end of the assignments, I was the only one who hadn’t been given something.
“Sergeant?” I asked.
He made a big show of turning around as if he didn’t notice I was there, a shit-stirring grin plastered on his stupid fat face which I hated more than I did an hour ago.
“The evidence locker needs cleaning and sorting. Get to it, Kline.”
