Misconception (chapter 2)

Detective Harper pulled up in front of Mabel Police Station with speed and rage, exited his car with such a slam passers-by stopped to stare. With this morning’s newspaper rolled up under his arm, he stormed up to his office. “Harper have you got the report on the Maxwell case?” “Harper I faxed those papers to the DNY, what do I do with this?” Today, Harper didn’t want nor need to be spoken to. His office door swung open as if it was expecting him, he took one short glance at his desk overridden with papers, reports, empty cups of coffee and post-it notes, before he sunk into his brown recliner. “Sorry to bother you, but have you got the report on the Mayor?” Harper looked up to see a small, skinny, old man staring at him longing to be somewhere else. His blue-grey eyes were full of sadness, a sadness not even his false toothy smile could conceal. Harper recognised him, but couldn’t quite remember his name. “Did you see this?” Harper said without even acknowledging the man’s question. “Did I see what?” the man replied with confusion; Harper handed the newspaper clipping with disgust to the man, less than a moment later his eyebrows furrowed with concentration, It read:
Claire Woodward was brutally murdered, slaughtered and dumped outside her house early this morning. The Connecticut forensics team, investigators and even the police force are working flat out to bring Claire and her husband, Jude, justice. “It’s been over 48 hours since Claire’s death, usually by now we’d have an idea of how, where or even who; nothing. Flaming nothing!” Robert Maxwell, Chief at Connecticut Constabulary said “This guy’s a creep; we’ll work day and night, night and day to stop this mad man.” Her husband found her corpse carefully placed on their doorstep. No arms, no legs; completely gutted like a fish.

Before the man could say anything, Harper rose to his feet, walked over to his desk and poured himself a cup of coffee. One, two, three gulps and it was gone. “This man” Harper said and broke the silence like fragile glass “This man will be the end of me. No facts, no stats, no nothing,” his voice began to escalate, “Do you know how many men we got working on this case? Do you? 37! Not one of those jackanapes can find anything” The silence returned, but this time tenser. The man just stood and stared, wishing that he hadn’t even entered the office in the first place.
“Hiding in your office all day isn’t going to solve this flaming case Harper! Sort your men out! They’re all just picking their noses, making paper airplanes and playing Tetris on their phones.” A broad man, 5”6 maybe 5”7ft of pure frustration. He wore a shirt which struggled to remain fastened over his large gut, a tie that clashed with his shirt and trousers that hung just above his ankles. He went by the name of Dot, no one really knew his real name but that didn’t matter as he was the top of the top. Even Harper feared him. Harper turned around sluggishly avoiding eye contact with Dot and the old man.
“They’re your men too.” He mumbled bluntly.
“Excuse me?” Dot said in such a patronising tone it shot through him like a bullet.
“I said; they’re your men too”
“Huh, you’re a funny one Harper.” Dot replied stroking his large fingers across Harpers desk and papers. Dot turned to see the old man’s face staring right at his, his eyes travelled down from his eyes until he saw the newspaper clipping in the old man’s hand. Dot’s eyes skipped from the old mans to Harpers continuously until he broke out into a mocking spurge of laughter. Silence fell. “You” Dot said pointing at the old man accusingly “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” he replied innocently
“Don’t play those games with me son. What’s that you’re holding?”
“Oh this” he laughed nervously “It’s just a clipping”
“Oh haha” Dot mimicked his laugh “hand it over”
The old man glanced apprehensively at Harper to receive one back. He passed it gently to Dot for him to just rip it out of his fore finger and thumb. The office became tense, as if a large block of steel dropped and fell on Harpers shoulders. Both Harper and the man were studying Dot's face searching for a reaction. Nothing. Not even a twitch. He folded it with care and slid it into his pocket.
“Harper” Dot said, his voice surprisingly soothing
“Hmm?”
“Go home, take a bath, pour yourself a drink; just get out of here”
Harper looked up and caught Dot’s eyes. They had a look of concern and sympathy which he couldn’t secrete even if he tried.
“This case…” Harper began, “This case, is my case now; go home to your wife Harper.” Dot continued “There’s no room, time or money for you anymore here. I think it’s time for you to sign your resignation.”
“I’m not going anywhere Dot”
“I’m not asking you Harper, I’m telling you.”
“You can’t do this, I have and know my rights” Harper complained
“Maybe you do, but your rights are automatically absent when I have right over you”
Harper gave one last look at Dot before he turned away.
“Oh yeah erm,” Harper glanced at the man
“Shiloh, Sir, Shiloh Hogan” the man replied
“Sorry, of course, Shiloh; I’ll fax the report to my, ah, this office ASAP”
“Pardon?” Shiloh enquired not entirely sure what Harper was referring to until he remembered his question, the reason as to why he came in there in the first place. “Thank you, I’ll be on guard” Shiloh fled the room and Dot soon followed leaving Harper alone in the office. I’ll be back, he thought and when I return; I shall return with the grand prize of Claire’s murderers head