The Archives

By: Apeman (zeni316@yahoo.com)

Case File#4: Domestic Calls

            “It’s hot,”

            The sun was shining bright, and the heat was unbelievable.  This, of course, is the account of a man wearing a trench coat and long, black pants during a heat wave.  I sighed and took a sip from my cup of coffee.

            “Yes, it is,” my best friend Kohta said.  “Sir,”

            For once we weren’t looking at some dead body; we were taking a break from it all, the police business.  Except the coffee.  Can’t live without it anymore. 

            “So…how’s it looking?”

            “Eh?” What the hell is he asking?

            “Your social life,” Kohta stared at his cup, turning it in circles.  “You meet the right person yet?”

            First thing that went through my mind was…where the hell did this come from?

            “Uh, no.  Job’s keeping me busy,” I said, looking confused. 

            “….”

            “Plus, my high school history teacher told me never to get married,”

            “Why?”

            “He was married and around twenty, and he was balding.  I didn’t ask,”

            Kohta chuckled, and we both took our last sip before heading out of the diner.

+++++

            “It’s hot,”

            It didn’t get dark until nine o’ clock, but the heat still singed my skin.  Kohta and I had just stopped a psycho man trying to kill his wife with a wrench.  The guy almost succeeded, too.  The man had calmed down and was trying to explain why he was doing what he was doing.

            “I-I-it’s just that I-I can’t control myself sometimes…”

            Ahh, the same old explanation.  Kohta was talking to the man, as I was consoling the man’s wife.

            “What’s your name?” I asked, kneeling beside her.

            “T-Toshiya,” she replied, nervously holding the cup of coffee I had given her.  “I-It’s ok now.  My husband didn’t mean to hurt me; he j-just lost control.”

            I looked down and stared at her.  Her lips were swollen from the beating, and her eyes were black as the night.  She looked up and met my glare.  Damn.

            I walked Toshiya over to where Kohta and the husband were, and I told both Toshiya and her husband that they could go home.  Kohta looked at me in amazement.

            +++++

            “What the hell was that?” Uh-oh.  Kohta’s angry.  “Sir?”

            “It’s called the law, Kohta,” I sighed and looked at him.  “She wasn’t going to press charges; we can’t do anything about that.”

            “But, sir, it was clear as day!”  Kohta yelled.  “Takeo!”

            “Sergeant!  Leave.  It.  Be.”

            “Damnit!” He walked away.

            “Hh.”

            +++++

            “It’s hot,”

            I was looking at a dead body hanging from a noose.  CSI was checking the alley out as I took sips from my cup of coffee.  The body had a note attached to it: “_ _me s­­t _rt”.

            “Game start?” Kohta asked.

            “Looks like it,” I sighed.  Another day, another case. 

            Another case, another cup of coffee.