Chapter 2 - The Native

Chapter 2 - Untitled

   The refrigerator door shut slowly after a light push. A fridge full of food, but nothing he wanted to eat. A glance to the counter top told him he was out of fresh coffee, though the pot had leftovers from the night before.
    Wandering into the den, the curtains were pulled open. Flinching, he covered his eyes almost immediately.

“Oh God...” He groaned, cracking his stiff neck.

    “ Why’s it gotta be mornin’ already..”

He’d spent the last several hours laying on the bed meant for two, staring at the peeling ceiling.  he hadn’t slept in days. he couldn't remember the last time he’d slept. everything felt surreal, things passed him by like a dream... The sheets were the most hideous grass green, but they were soft... laying on them was like laying on the ground in the middle of a field, and while the chipping ceiling couldn’t compare to the real sky, after nearly three completely sleepless nights,  it was starting to come pretty close.

When he was  a kid and they first told him the world was spinning hundreds of miles an hour in a vast empty space, revolving around a giant burning gaseous ball of fire, he hardly believed them. If someone had told him six months ago his wife was going to leave him for some pompous well-to-do lawyer, he wouldn’t have believed that either.

John Skelton was cop. a detective nonetheless, and had learned many a year earlier, like many other people, he had no particular fondness of lawyers, and had some very strong opinions when it came to pompous, arrogant, wife stealing public defenders.

There was nothing especially memorable about Skelton. he was of average height and weight,  light brown hair, and eyes that lay somewhere in the middle of brown and green on the color scale. he liked to say they were brownish green, or greenish brown, rather than saying something like hazel. made him feel a little more special.

He shuffled off into the bathroom at the end of the narrow hall. He sat on the closed toilet, opening the small window next to it, that led into the dingy alley out back. reaching into his pocket he pulled out a half empty, partially crushed cigarette packet. sliding one out and in between his lips. He fished around his pockets cluelessly for a minute looking around for his lighter, but couldn’t find it, instead going for the matches  on the window sill.

He lit up the cigarette taking a deep breath. he used to only be able to smoke in the bathroom, as he lived on the top floor and didn’t want to go all the way down the stairs to the dark alley to smoke, didn’t trust the fire escape, and until last week, he’d had to deal with Joyce telling him what he could and couldn’t do. specifically, smoking in the apartment. it had become a tradition to smoke quietly in the bathroom with the fan and shower on by the window, pretending to shower while he’d get his fix of vile things. he hated them and loved them all at the same time.

putting out the half finished butt he stood up now, leaving it on the window sill. he went over to the mirror, turning on the cold water, filling up the sink slowly. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to wake up a bit more.

He gripped the edge of the sink almost going down as his knee went out again. it hadn’t been the same  since he’d been shot last year just over the knee. the pain was immense. He stared into the water in the sink, taking a deep breath.. then plunged his head into the water that filled the sink. He held his breath, embracing the silence of it for a few moments. The quiet didn’t last long though; he could hear his heart pounding in his chest, throbbing in his ears.

He came up breathless, staring into the mirror, looking into his own green eyes for a minute. his hair was thinning a bit, not balding, but not as thick as it used to be. dark circles were forming under his eyes, and he’d recently dropped quite a bit of weight. His face was a rounded oval shape, and his ears were a bit far away from the sides of his head. by no means was he an ugly man, but he was no prince charming.

Skelton barely recognized himself any more. he stared a long while at himself, discontent with what he’d become, and eventually plunged his head back into the water, into the void.

His eyes opened, stinging slightly as he got water in them.

♞

In his car he sat staring at a bottle of pills in his hands. prescription pain killers... he’d been taking so many he’d nearly depleted his own prescription  that was meant to last a month in almost week...

He popped open the bottle, throwing back a few pills and downing them with some water from a water bottle that he slipped into the cup holder when he was done. he put the pills into his coat pocket. Unbuckling he got up out of the car, standing at the edge of the parking lot.

♞

Elliot was stood for a whole minute looking down over Skelton’s desk, staring down at the man, sleeping slumped over the table. he had two coffees from the local shop, and finally moved, putting one down on the desk in front of John.

“ Wakey wakey.”

Skelton stirred finally looking up.

“ You’re late.”

“ And you’re sleeping on the job. let’s call it even shall we?” he slumped into the chair across from him, sipping his coffee slowly, pulling a face. it was god awful.

Elliot Lang was a slightly taller man than his partner. and slightly skinnier. he looked more the cunning type than the one that would win in a fight, though unfortunately neither of  those descriptions much suited poor John Skelton. Lang had wavy dark hair that often looked like he needed a haircut, even after he claimed he’d gotten one. he was fair skinned well shaven, once more, unlike his partner, who had a day or two of stubble showing. and again unlike his partner, his eyes were piercing gray. the color drew immediate attention to his eyes, and his constantly furrowed brow. he was likely somewhere in his late thirties by this point though he hated to admit his real age. the touch of gray starting to show in his hair was bad enough.

Skelton sat up straighter stretching a bit.  He rubbed his eyes, trying to fix his hair. he looked half ill himself. He was about to make a comment that it wasn’t even, but sighed, giving up as his phone rang, interrupting him.

Elliot was drinking another sip of his awful coffee looking over now and then to his partner to see what he was doing and saying. Skelton was writing something down, nodding. Elliot always found it amusing when people nodded instead of saying O.K. over the phone.. they can’t see you. it didn't’ make sense to him. same thing with hand gestures..

His mind was wandering down a winding path but was yanked back to the present by Skelton.

“ we’ve got a case.”

At that moment he felt like some actor on a day time cop drama with all the bad acting and over the top cases. he sighed.

“ what is it?”

“ Body found in a parking garage. guys ID raised like four red flags soon as they ran it.”

“ What kind of red flags? we talking ..Warrant? Jump bail what?”

“ your lot. the vic is one Jacob Vasilyev. A low life drug dealer with known connections to the Armansky family I guess.”

That made the color drain from his face a little.

“ Vasilyev? “ he thought for a minute.

“ No never heard the name far as I can recall..”

They headed out a few minutes later, getting in the car together. Skelton was driving, and Lang spent most of his time looking out the window deep in thought. the name was familiar. but he couldn’t place it.  he was sure he’d heard it before.