Veil of Crimson

Time To Turn A New Leaf

I wake up when it’s already light outside. I’m not sure what the time is, and it also takes me a minute to realize where I am and what is going on. Then, it all comes rushing at me. Catching Brandon cheating on me. Finding myself a place to stay the night. Getting drunk in a bar.

Hell, I’m regretting it so badly, now that my head feels like it weighs a ton. Then, something else comes back at me. That dude that wouldn’t quit trying to get into my panties. My face falls. Uh-oh. I hope I didn’t give him too much information about myself. I really don’t want him to turn into a stalker.

I groan at myself, remembering that I have to tell the receptionist that the light in my room isn’t working. But not before I call my boss. I’m going to be late today, I’ve already accepted my fate. But the least I can do is be a responsible adult about it.

He answers on the second ring, almost making me sigh. Lieutenant really doesn’t have a life of his own. “Yes, Gauthier?” he answers in his usual sharp tone. I’m just climbing out of bed, looking for my uniform.

“Morning, boss. I’m going to come in late today. I have urgent matters that I need to take care of,” I explain, not wanting to get into details. As I grab my officer’s uniform, I find myself hesitating. Do I go to work in this, or do I … Never mind, I’ll just get another one at the station, I’m not leaving the hotel in that tiny red dress.

“Alrighty, just don’t be too late. I already have a case for you,” he informs me shortly, making me pause before answering. I can’t help but feel at least a little bit excited. Even if we’re talking about murder, presumably.

“Oh, okay. I’ll hurry up as much as I can, Lieutenant, I promise,” I assure him, then hang up after we tell each other goodbye. I get dressed, make myself look at least a little presentable with stuff that I got at the reception yesterday, because I didn’t even pack a toothbrush.

Anyway, I skip breakfast at the hotel restaurant, even if my stomach is growling already and drive myself straight back to the place that I used to call home until yesterday.

I know that I don’t have much time, so I rush inside and knock on Mrs. Norbert’s door. She opens up in a minute or so, but I can’t really blame her. She’s not the youngest lady anymore. As we come face to face, I realize that she knows what’s going on by that pitiful expression she makes.

“Hello, darlin’. I suppose ya came here for the key,” she greets me in her dialect. I nod in confirmation, smiling as I see a cat sliding between her feet.

“Hello. That’s right, Mrs. Norbert. I’m packing up and leaving. I’ll miss you. Can’t say the same for that lying, cheating asshole, though,” I remark. She widens her eyes in horror, then narrows them at the same moment.

“Oh, did he now? He didn’t tell me a thing about that. Good riddance, sugar. Ya don’t need a man like that in ya life,” she assures me, making me smile. She always has a way with words. I wasn’t lying, I’ll truly miss her. And her tiny family of cats.

“Thanks, I think so, too,” I tell her, shrugging as I have nothing left to say. She shakes her head in disappointment over her neighbor, then hands the key to me. I thank her, before going to the apartment, to get all of my stuff.

It’s a good thing I don’t have that much. I pack my clothes into gigantic garbage bags, carrying them down to the car. I use the suitcase for my shoes, then start gathering the rest of my belongings. I wipe the place clean as fast as possible, not wanting to run into him in case he intends to catch me packing.

I don’t even leave him my favorite coffee. He can go buy it himself, he sure has the money for it. I’m not leaving anything. It will be like I was never even here. It’s almost painful, watching the place from the door after I’ve removed every trace of myself.

This is it, Elise. You’re done with Brandon and Chestnut Street, once and for all. It hurts like hell, being treated this way and having to leave basically in a nanosecond, but … Good riddance.

As I’m driving away, I can’t help but stop at a coffee shop before going to work. I need a muffin and coffee. I could use an aspirin too, but as my fellow New Orleanians like to put it, ya can’t have everything, can ya?

Once I finally walk into the station, my boss seems to be on edge already. He pins his gaze on me the moment I enter the office, already getting up from his desk. “Gauthier, go to the HR to get a new uniform, then head straight to the crime scene. The murder was at that fancy restaurant near the Supreme Court … You know,” he starts barking orders at me.

I nod, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. “Right away, sir. You probably mean the one on the crossroad of Royal Street and St Louis Street, don’t you?” I respond, making him nod and wave his hand at the same time, urging me to go already.

“Yeah, yeah, that one. Go already,” he dismisses me and I have no other choice but to turn on my heels and head back the same way that I just got in. Amanda at HR gives me my new uniform and I change in the restroom, before heading back to my fully loaded car. I groan at myself for not carrying those things to my hotel room. But I was running short on time already.

Well, at least I don’t have to go far. The crime literally happened on the same street as the station is on. I could walk down there, but that would make my boss lose it. I think I’m already walking on a thin enough line on my first day as a detective.

I keep glancing at the words, embroidered on my shoulder. NOPD Detective. I can’t help but smile at them. My promotion does have a sour taste after what I saw yesterday evening … No, I’m not going to think about that. No emotions on the job, Elise.

I drive off, only to park the car a little lower on the street. There are already police vehicles surrounding the restaurant, and I can see that the tape has already been pulled. Great. That means I’m super late.

As I hop out of the car, I get greeted by the forensics. They’ve just done the first swipe and are waiting for me to do my part, before they take everyone out and do their job more thoroughly.

One of them is really happy to see me. Omar, the one that I’ve worked with most often when I was just an officer. I guess we’ll be seeing each other a lot more now that my role in the investigation is more significant. “El, hi. I mean, it’s good to see you, detective,” he greets me warmly.

I can’t help but smile back at him. “Hello, Omar. Sorry that I’m running late, I’ve had some personal stuff to take care of,” I explain, making him wave his hand in a dismissive way. Then, he leans a little closer in a conspiratory way.

“You didn’t miss anything. You didn’t hear it from me, but the owner is looking quite suspicious. There was barely anyone here apart from him,” he lets me know. I nod gratefully, knowing that he only means well.

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll go check out what we have on the victim now. I’ll see you around,” I respond, making him nod and wink at me. I head inside with a strange feeling awakening at the pit of my stomach.

I’ve never stepped foot in this restaurant before. Fleur de Lys, the pride and blooming flower of the French Quarter. They have a top notch chef, who’s keeping the entire city drooling for more. So I’ve heard. The place is a little out of my budget.

As I go through the door, I realize it’s a little crowded. Officers, my coworkers, are gathered around the body and I’m trying my best to slide through the crowd unnoticed. I have no such luck. A senior officer notices me, the one that sticks his nose into everything.

“Finally. We’ve been waiting for you forever,” he lets me know. I’m about to nod and apologize, but then I realize something. I don’t have to walk on eggshells around this dude anymore. I’m his superior now. And, oh, it’s a great feeling, being able to tell him what I think.

“My personal errands are none of your business, Officer Gerard,” I inform him, then motion towards the body, lying on the ground. “What do we have on the victim?” I then ask, directing the question at all the officers.

The newest member of New Orleans Police Department answers first, clearly trying to prove herself. And I approve of that. Her need to show her skills reminds me of my own first days on the force.

“The victim’s name is Gale Roberts. He is male, Caucasian, age fifty-one. He works as a plumber at a company named NoLeaks. We got the information about him from them. He was sent here to fix a leakage problem in the kitchen. The call came in this morning from the restaurant’s owner,” she explains.

I nod in confirmation, getting closer to examine the body. “Thank you, Natalie. Any sign of the murder weapon?” I ask as I notice the mark on his head. His skull was crushed under the blunt force of the hit. He was killed on spot. There aren’t many objects that cause instant death. It must have been something really heavy. And the killer had to be really strong to wield the object.

“None yet. We’re still trying to find it,” she continues. My eyes scan the body, checking his wrinkled, used hands. The skin is hardened from the type of work he’s been doing probably his whole life. There’s a thin gold chain necklace hanging around his neck.

“Does he still have his wallet on him?” I wonder. This time another officer answers me. He tells me that his wallet was intact. And that there was more than two hundred bucks in there. So he couldn’t have been killed for money. Interesting.

It’s almost a little thrilling, leading an investigation after assisting on so many cases, secretly wanting to play this role. I straighten up, putting my hands together. I glance at the officers, who are all staring at me in expectation. Right. I’m leading this.

“Any witnesses? Suspects?” I ask, hoping that we at least have something, because this is starting to look a little hopeless. Without a murder weapon, or any people to question we really don’t have much to work with.

One of my coworkers is just about to answer me, when they get interrupted by someone who thinks it’s smart to interfere with policework. I can’t wait to see who this douchebag is.

“Hello? Where’s that Detective of yours? I’ve been waiting here forever. I have things to do, people to see, a business to run!” the guy protests. I take a deep breath before turning around. That’s the owner, I presume.

“She’s here, Mr. LeBlanc. We’re really sorry for the inconvenience, she’s ready to interview you now,” Natalie so kindly answers him, while my heart basically drops into my pants as I realize who I’m staring at. It’s the guy from the bar!