Oh Death (Chapter Five)

Kingston as a town was about as mentally stimulating as watching grass grow. The people obviously weren't as green, in fact they were so set in their respective ruts that the only thing that seemed capable of making them quit their jobs was the Reaper's scythe. Like the grass, every time a little forward momentum got going, old habits took root, the next generation was set and the great lawn mower of old age hacked down the old to let the new grow in precisely the same way.

It was into that unceasing commonality that Alice had moved six months ago. Heads had turned on the streets as she drove in, eyes stared as she stepped out of her car and walked up to the tiny one-story she'd secured to live in for the duration of her stay. What'd already seemed like ages to her was a blink to them, and the staring still continued even as she peered at Rick over her cup of thick black coffee. The waiter lingered by their table, and it wasn't until she snapped at him that he moved away.

"It occurs to you he might have just found you attractive," Rick teased, mouth twitching.

"Oh, and can you say the same for gramps over there?"

She raised her stirring spoon and jabbed it at the old man eyeing her a few tables away. He abruptly adjusted his spectacles and looked down.

"Imagine they're all thinking the same thing I am." Rick folded his fingers around his steaming mug, leaning forward. "They're wondering why you're here." 

 

Alice eyed him icily. She knew he was only trying to be kind, helpful. That was just the sort of guy Rick was. But she wasn't the sort to break down and sob on someone's shoulder, especially when that someone was working with her on a homicide case. He needed to know she was collected, stable, and above all, not emotionally compromised.

"You're like a clam, you know. Shut up tight. But I can tell you've got something brewing in that skull of yours."

"Well right now I'm actually contemplating tossing the rest of my 'brew' right at your face," she returned, gesturing threateningly with her half-filled mug.

Surprisingly Rick didn't smile. "You lost someone, Alice. Someone near and dear. Why else would you transfer down to this place? You needed to get away from the constant scramble of the city, the violence." He laughed hollowly. "And you showed up just in time for the most heinous crime we've had in about fifty years. Lucky you."

Alice dumped some more sugar into her coffee and stirred, mostly to give herself a reason to look down. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the waiter a few tables down, still watching her and utterly failing at subtlety. "I'm not about to get all Dr. Phil here, Rick. You want a story, you come back to my place later. Then we'll talk."

He shrugged and stood as he tossed a twenty onto the table. "Never turn down a pretty lady's invitation to come over to her place," her replied, but his voice was devoid if its usual playfulness. "Probably a better idea anyway. Should head back to the precinct for a spell and try going over what we've got so far."

Alice pried her eyes off Andrew Jackson's green portrait and bounded up. "I'll come," she said, nabbing at the chance of subject change eagerly.

"No, you'll turn in for the night. Besides, you probably need to go scrub your brain after listening to Madame Zyra's mystical portents." He squinted an eye shut and made shooing motions at her. "Now get ye home, miss Burgton. I'll contact you in the morning if by some miracle I find something worth noting."

Fighting the urge to argue and assert just who the superior officer was, Alice instead gave in. Flipping Rick the bird as he stuck out his tongue, she turned and meandered off, contemplating the idea of a hot bath.