Echoes of The Cliff

Chapter 4

Frank never thought he would see the day when he would wish for an avalanche of cases to solve to be rolling unto his table. But this was the case, no pun intended, as he placed his elbows on his wide wooden desk that, for once didn't have stacks of folders and pictures littering it, and ran his hands through his dark glossy hair. He glanced at the whiteboard to the left. Even that was bare.

"Dying of boredom, huh?" A woman's velvety voice sounded, accompanied by the soft click of his office door being closed, then shut.

"It's been a week, Sandy." Frank whined, dropping his chin on the palm of one hand to gaze at the tall, slender woman with a jet black ponytail and eyes the color of the Dead Sailor's sea.

Sandy stalked towards him and plopped into the chair on the opposite side of the table. She stared at him, then blinked twice. "A week? You're sad no one in the neighbourhood has wound up dead for you to burn your brain watts on, in one week?" Her jaw would be dropping to her chest if she had any such expressions to give. Instead, she shook her head and moved to pull him by the ear, hard.

"Ow ow ow, what the heck, Sandy?" He exclaimed, gripping onto her wrist.

"Your skull is too thick, so I can't knock some sense into you. I'll just pull the nonsense out of you instead." She said with a shrug of her shoulders, earning a glare from Frank who was now rubbing his ear and sulking even more.

"Sandys are such a pain." He murmured.

"Did you say something?"

"No, nothing at all."

"Good, get up." She said, not giving him a chance to choose otherwise as she rose from her seat and pulled him up after her by the wrist.

"Why?" More whining.

"It's time for our break, we're going out." Sandy replied.

"Oh." His eyes immediately lit up like Christmas lights. But then he remembered that outings with his best friend were always a saga of torture for him. "W-wait. What if the captain needs us?"

"For what? You're the one who just said we're on a dry spell." She shot back smugly, a malevolent smirk gracing her rosy lips as she led him out the office.

"Morning, Sergeant. Morning, Detective." Greetings to Frank and Sandy came from left to right as they walked through the homicide department.

"Morning, guys. Hey Owen. How's it going?"

"Great! It hasn't been this breezy in a long time." Owen chirped.

"See?" Sandy turned back to face him with a glare. "That," She pointed with her free hand at the mirthful officers clearly enjoying the relaxing week, although some mirrored Frank's bored gaze. "Is a healthy work attitude."

Frank pouted. "I have a stellar work attitude."

Sandy's glare hardened, if that were even possible. She then veered in the direction of the Captain of Homicide's office with Frank in tow.

"Detective Fritzman, sir." She said after knocking twice on his door.

"Come in." Answered a gruff, baritone male voice from the other side of the door.

"Good morning, Captain." Sandy and Frank saluted simultaneously.

The aforementioned man looked up from the paperwork he was assessing and his lips quirked into a small smile at the sight of the two. "Morning to you too." He dropped the papers and reclined in his black leather seat. "What brings you to my office this morning?"

Captain Granderson was a seasoned man in his fifties whose tall frame and imposing build did nothing to betray his age. The greys decorating his dark brown swept back hair and the few furrows surrounding his deep grey eyes that spoke of years of experience and lots of wisdom were the only give away.

"Sergeant Maxfield would like to request the rest of the day off as there are no ongoing cases on his plate, and he is getting sick of the office air." Sandy spouted bluntly.

Frank's neck snapped towards her so quickly it was almost painful to hear. "What? No, Captain. I was actually wondering if you had anything you needed me to-"

Sandy slapped her palm over his mouth and grinned at the caption. Frank glared down at her, resisting the urge to bite down on her palm.

Captain Granderson chuckled at the two and shook his head. It was always shocking to new recruits that Maxfield was the superior between the two. Frank was as workaholic as he was talented, which was a lot, but the bossy woman always made sure to keep him in check.

"Sure, Fritzman. Please take the sergeant out of the office and make sure he has a good break." Frank's jaw dropped to his shoes. All he got was a sweet smile from the captain, while Sandy was now preparing to cosplay a Cheshire cat. "You need to let loose a few muscles, Maxfield. Be in top shape when the next case comes up."

"Yes, Captain." Frank mumbled. Sandy reiterated his statement with more fervor, already dragging him out the door.

*************

"Why are we here, Sandy?" Frank heaved a sigh for the umpteenth time since they left the station. They were standing in the ice cream section of the supermarket. Sandy knew he didn't like ice creams, they were too sweet, they harassed his taste buds. He preferred the familiar taste of strong black coffee on long hard nights, and Minnie's heavenly breakfasts and dinner. Blessed were the days when she was free enough to pack him lunch. He smiled at the thought.

"To stuff me full of ice cream!" Sandy chirped, bouncing on her feet. He was going to protest till he processed her words. Me, not you.

"Selfish woman." He couldn't help but grumble even as he internally sang his relief. Sandy simply shot him a glare and sashayed towards the register with her long slender legs wrapped in skintight leather pants.

Soon they were out of the supermarket with Sandy already inhaling her bucket of mint ice cream and Frank holding a plastic bag containing the chocolate cake Minnie loved so much.

He stopped in his tracks as he noticed a motorcycle parked to the left some meters away from the entrance, that wasn't there when they came in.

It brought back memories...